Demons
by See Them Fly
Summary: Everyone has their own demons. When Bella wakes up next to her ex-boyfriend's brother, both are forced to confront their demons from five years ago in order to move into the future. All human. OOC. Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

**Bella:**

I don't remember much about how I lost my virginity. I guess, in a way, that's the best way to do it; no memory, no anxiety, no worries. The whole awkward episode is over and you don't have to remember all the grimy little details of how you stumbled over the button of your jeans and knocked your head against the headboard. In fact, the only thing I remember with clarity is that my roommate dragged me to a club to celebrate the New Year, against my will, and dressed me in a shirt that could barely be classed as a bra, let alone decent outerwear. In a way, it is the best way to do it.

Well, that is as long as you wake up next to someone who isn't your ex-boyfriend's brother.

Too bad I wasn't so lucky.

Lazy light filtered in through the shutters and straight into my eyes. I tried to move, but I was tangled in a knot of cotton sheets and limbs, and ended up almost tumbling out of bed. The warm arm that was draped across my bare back slid off, but the heavy breathing beside me didn't change; still deep in slumber. The room was hot and humid. My body was stiff with ache and felt different. It hurt between my legs – tender and raw – and my throat felt like sandpaper. Some sort of acoustic set was playing in the background; melodious and bluesy; sweet and salty. I tried to get to my feet, but ended up stumbling over a floor carpeted in books and papers and sheet music, my feet catching the trailing bed sheet that I clutched to my bare body. My head pounded mercilessly, as if an iron rod had been jammed through it, and the amount of noise I made could have woken the dead. Terrified, I turned back to the bed to see the mop of blonde curls on the pillow next to mine start to stir.

I would have dived for the door, but I was surrounded by noise-makers and too frightened to move. All I could do was stand there and watch as Jasper rubbed crusted sleep from his eyes and turned in a daze to look at me.

It took him a while to realise who I was. The first thing that came out of his mouth when he did summed up the situation perfectly.

"Oh fuck."

_Bingo_.

I stood there awkwardly, my heart pounding like a jack hammer, feeling exposed and unable to reply. He was watching me with sleepy eyes. Dully I remembered those same electric blue eyes raking up and down my body as he pulled me to him, plunging into me, whispering my name as I moaned his, blonde curls brushing my breast, all of it hazy at the edges but still real.

I had to slam my eyes shut to push those pictures away. I busied myself with scraping together my clothes strewn across the room, trying to think of something – anything – to say. What do you say to the brother of your ex, who you just drunkenly fucked, after five years of no contact?

Nothing. That's what.

I could feel the tears bubbling in my chest as I located the pair of black lacy panties that Angela had forced me into. She was trying to be a good friend. She had been trying to help me relax and have fun and feel good about myself. At that moment, however, I didn't feel good about myself. I felt like shit and my whole body hurt.

The room was musty and dark; lazily lit. Beneath the rubble it was difficult to find anything. I crouched down to pick up the panties, biting back the lump in my throat and pushing through my aching body and throbbing head. Sex wasn't meant to feel that way. It was meant to feel good and right and pleasurable and fucking amazing.

_It had felt like that, _my mind told me as flashes of skin slick with sweat, rubbing against one-another, an electric current flowing between us, came back to me. _It had. It had_.

I almost choked at the thought, falling over and catching myself with my hand.

That was when I felt a body crouch down next to mine and a soft, rich, southern voice say my name.

"Bella."

The sound made me shudder; shooting chills up my spine.

"Bella, I'm sorry."

His voice was sincere; so sincere that it told me that he wasn't just talking about that night. The thought made me look up, my eyes meeting his.

I couldn't speak when I did.

Jasper had changed over the years; grown up. But he was still wearing those old blue jeans he loved so much – this time without a shirt, and the button undone, clearly just thrown on. He still had the same blue eyes, but his hair was shaggier; freer. His facial structure was stronger and his body had filled out. He wasn't that boy-man I once knew. He was a man; strong and independent and older.

But it was still Jasper. He still looked exhausted and torn and the same as he had when he was that black sheep back in Forks, Washington. Still the same, but totally different.

Still Edward's step brother.

Still part of Edward.

"So am I," I said abruptly.

My voice was crusted and ice cold. He didn't even flinch as he handed me my shirt. I took it tentatively, insuring that our skin didn't touch.

"I'll put some coffee on," he offered, standing up and stretching out his torso. Muscles rippled under tanned skin. Flashes of running my hands over his body, trailing salty kisses over his chest, licking up the tangy taste of lemon and sweat and man from him, crossed my mind, foggy and distant but still real. I averted my eyes quickly.

"Don't bother," I replied, standing up and clutching the fabric in my arms to my chest.

His eyes shot to mine, watching me carefully, intense as ever, as I stood there with flushed cheeks and a throbbing head and an aching body. I had to say something. Anything.

"You don't need to show me any hospitality," I elaborated. "We both know what this was."

Jasper craned his head to the side, looking at me with interest. I didn't like being under scrutiny.

"And what is that, exactly?" he asked, and for a moment his voice sounded pained.

I didn't want to say it.

"Jasper…" I scolded, warning him not to push it. He wasn't fazed.

"Bella," he copied, smirking arrogantly.

I frowned at him and walked forwards, pushing him aside and heading to the bathroom. I wasn't going to get into an argument with him while standing in the middle of his room wrapped in a sheet.

"Asshole," I muttered cruelly as I went, slamming the door in the face of his laughter. My rudeness was unnecessary, but it wasn't exactly an easy situation to be in. Lashing out was a way to cope with it all.

As soon as I got into the bathroom I threw the sheet down and looked into the mirror. I was a mess. I needed a long hot bath and a good night's sleep.

I wasn't going to get that there.

"Asshole?" Jasper laughed through the door. "Jeez, Bella, you've grown some balls in the last five years. I've never heard such language from you before."

I felt like smacking him. I didn't care that I felt like dirt and my head was about to explode. Jasper pissed me off. So, I threw my clothes on as quickly as possible and shoved open the door to tell him exactly how I felt.

"That would be because you didn't share more than three words with me five years ago, Jasper. And really, I don't want that to change now, so please, get out of my way and stay out of my life."

I forced my way past him in an attempt to get out of his room. Jasper wasn't having a bar of it.

"_Stay out of your life_?" he laughed as I walked away. "Fuck, Bella, I've never been _in_ your life."

Anger shot through me. I spun around to face him, head on.

"What the hell do you call this then?" I challenged.

"Sex," he answered strongly. "Drunken sex because we were at the same club on New Year's night. It means shit. I'm not _in your life_. I'm a _one-night stand_. There's a difference."

"Good," I spat in reply. "I'm glad. I wrote your family out of my life a long time ago. The last thing I want is for you to re-join it."

"Ditto," Jasper growled. "I didn't have anything to do with you in high school and I don't want anything to do with you now."

"Then we are in agreement," I concluded, shooting daggers. Only then did I realise how close we had gotten; so heated in our argument that at the end of it we ended up right in each other's faces. Jasper's breath fogged my mind. I could smell him – sweat and lemon and salt and whiskey – all over me; so different from what his brother had been; from what I was used to. Memories of the darkness and the heat and his hard body hanging over mine; on top of me; deep in me; smelling his skin, all flashed before me; desperation and animal instincts and need and desire and –

Fuck.

I snapped out of the daze, telling myself that it was wrong and that Jasper was a bad guy for me and that I couldn't, when I noticed Jasper cracking a small smile.

I straightened my expression and took a step back.

"I saw that," he smirked, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"What?" I growled.

"Your eyes glaze over," he noted, running a hand through his shaggy curls. "Desire. Lust. Fervour. It was all there."

I gave him an angry look. "And what are you; a mind reader?"

Jasper smiled just a little. In the dull light I could see his eyes shine with some hidden secret. I felt exposed.

"No. I can just read people."

I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything.

He spoke eventually, his voice all enriched and fragmented and broken and different. "It was fun though, wasn't it? I mean, we were good."

His expression was all seductive and steamy. I felt like smacking it out of him. But, I also felt like pouncing on him and having him trail sweet kisses along my clavicle.

What the hell was wrong with me?

"I wouldn't know," I replied bitterly, trying to ignore the smell of him on my skin and the heat between my legs. "I don't remember much of it."

"I could jog your memory," he offered, and before I knew it, hard, calloused hands were sliding along my waist, rough and hot and applying just the right pressure, making me want to pull his body to mine and taste his tangy lips and –

_Oh fuck_.

"Jasper," I growled weakly, pushing his hands away from their southern goal. I remembered who he had been and what I was. I remembered how I couldn't; shouldn't. "This is wrong. You know that."

"Why?" he pressed, stilling his movements and locking his blue eyes on mine. "What's so wrong? It's just sex."

I didn't want to say it, but the words wouldn't stop.

"You're his brother."

Jasper froze, his eyes going cold. Suddenly, he shut them and shook his head.

"_Step_ brother," he corrected. "And what does that even matter? It has been five years. You're not still hung up on him, are you?"

"No," I answered immediately.

Jasper smiled weakly. "See? So what does it matter? Forget about him. Hell, _I_ haven't even seen him in over a year. He's not my brother, and he's not your boyfriend. Who gives a fuck?"

I did. It felt wrong. It hurt. It reminded me of so much. Jasper was so different than him, with rough hands and force and passion and heat.

But his hands felt so good. His thumbs started rubbing that sensitive spot on the small of my back. The heat soaked deep into my skin, shaking me to the core, making me want to cry out for more, harder, faster…

I bit my lip. Jasper smiled.

"It's just sex," he added. "It means shit. We don't even have to play host. _It's just sex_."

"Just sex," I repeated as his thumbs did their dance across my virgin skin, resisting the urge to buck my hips. "Just sex."

"No strings attached," he added.

Mindlessly, I nodded, lost in the feeling of his skin on mine and that electric current that shot up my spine every time he touched me in that way.

"No strings attached," I repeated. "I can deal with that."

:::

When I arrived home I should have been prepared for it. I mean, Angela no doubt saw something, and me being out all night wasn't exactly a common occurrence. In fact, it was a first. I should have known that she would pounce on me.

As soon as I walked in the door, she did.

"Bella!" she called, leaping up from the sofa and rushing towards me. "Bella, you're home! Oh gosh, I was worried."

Angela was my best friend and virtually the only person from high school that I kept in contact with. She was a quiet girl in high school, but had come into her own at college, growing in confidence and spirit. She had an on-again, off-again relationship with her high school sweetheart, Ben. At that moment, it was on.

"Sorry, Ang," I apologised quickly. "I got caught up."

My head was still throbbing and my body still ached. Not to mention the mental state I was in. I had just made a deal with my ex-boyfriend's brother to become fuck buddies right after having sex for the first time, drunk, in a room of smoke and heat and music. I wasn't in a good state.

"Oh, I know. And I need to talk to you about it," she agreed eagerly.

I would have argued, but I didn't have the energy. "Okay, that's fine," I agreed quickly, "but can we do this in the bathroom. I need a hot bath."

Angela nodded and started towards the bathroom, running the tap for me as I started stripping off last night's clothes. When I was done she picked them up and lobbed them into the hamper before knocking the toilet lid down and taking a seat. I went to the drawers and grabbed a facecloth and took two aspirin before getting into the bath. The hot water felt like heaven around my aching body. Relaxed and washing myself clean, the weird feeling started to subside. I was still the same person; a bit stiff, but still the same.

"So," Angela began, crossing her legs and locking eyes with me, "last night. That was pretty hectic, wasn't it?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Honestly, I don't remember much of it."

"But you had sex last night, right? I mean, that's where you've been, right?" she pressed, confused.

I nodded simply. "And now I have a killer hangover. Life's a bitch. I can't believe you made me go out."

"You did drink a truck load," she giggled.

"Yeah, thanks for stopping me," I teased.

Angela fell silent for a few moments; one of those awkward silences where you want to tell them to just spit it out.

So that's exactly what I did.

"Well…it's just…You didn't have sex with _Jasper_, did you?" she asked nervously. I almost choked on my own breath.

"_W-what?_"

Angela shrugged nervously. "Well, I mean, I saw you two getting pretty hot and heavy at the club, and the next thing I knew you were hailing a cab and telling me not to wait up. I just figured…well…you know…Did you?"

I couldn't lie to Angela. She knew me too well, and the guilt would eat at me afterwards. All I could do was nod in confirmation.

"Oh, Bella," she sighed. "You didn't…"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "What does it matter anyway?"

Angela stumbled over her reply. "Well…it's just…I mean…he's just…he's...I mean…it's just…"

"Spit it out, Ang," I sighed, rubbing the wet cloth over my face.

"He's Edward's _brother_," she blurted out. "And, I mean, I haven't seen you with anyone _since_ Edward…and now…now you're dating his _brother_. Is that _healthy_? I mean…you and Edward didn't exactly end very well. I just…I just don't want you to get hurt again. Not to mention what Jasper was like back then. Do you really want to get involved in that?"

"I'm not," I answered simply. "I'm not getting involved in that, and we are _not_ dating. It was just a one night thing. No harm, no foul. I'm never going to see him again. I want nothing to do with that family. I've learnt my lesson. I'm not that kind of person."

Angela looked at me with wide eyes. I just shrugged again. I felt bad for lying to her, but it was only a little lie, and it was partly true. If I told her about our agreement, she would freak. If I told her that Jasper took my virginity, it would kill her. No one could know. I couldn't do that to Angela. I just had to…lie. And it clearly worked, because a small smile started to appear on her face.

"Well, I'm glad," she praised. "It must have been a shock waking up to him this morning though, huh?"

"You have _no_ idea," I agreed with a small guilty smile.

"And did he say anything? I mean, did he say anything about Edward or the others? Is he still dating Alice? Where are Rosalie and Emmett?"

I shrugged again, averting my eyes to the water lapping at my chest, drawing little whirlpools with my index finger.

"No, he didn't say anything. I didn't ask, either," I answered quietly. "I wouldn't care anyway. I don't want anything to do with that family."

"Well," Angela popped, smiling brightly at me, "happy New Year to that."

"Yeah," I muttered. "Happy New Year."

* * *

><p><strong>Should I continue?<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Jasper:**

If Edward had been around, he would have shoved me up against a wall and punched me in the face. Then again, Pretty Boy probably wouldn't have the balls to try it with me, and if he _did_ the silver spoon shoved down his throat probably would have choked him to death.

Asshole.

But that shit didn't matter. Edward could kiss my ass, because Bella was fucking _me_ and not _him_.

Seeing her after five years was a shocker. Back in Forks, I never had much to do with her at all. She had never interested me. But when you add alcohol and time and celebrations to the mix, things get a little hot a heavy. One minute I was spilling my drink over her strappy top that looked more like string than a shirt, before being slapped in the face by the little brunette with the big eyes. The next minute, we were on the dance-floor, all hands and sweat and crappy music, before appearing at the bar, downing lemony shots and locking tangy lips.

The rest is pretty much a blur. I remember her sitting on top of me, a bottle of Jack Daniel's in her hand as she writhed about, mahogany curls dragging across my torso as she went down on me. I remember dribbling the smooth whiskey over her breasts and lapping it up with fervour, sweat and heat and a smooth daze, swearing on her beauty and wanting to make her feel as good as she made me feel. I remember how she had traced the scars on my chest, making it feel as though her mere touch could heal them, giggling like a child and kissing them senseless. I remember plunging into her depths and her little yelp of pleasure as she fitted herself around me, wriggling and biting her lip, her head rolling back as she took me in. I remember how tight she was, and how she climaxed around me, her body twisting and turning, and how she moaned my name as I whispered hers.

Yeah, I remembered it, but none of it felt real. It was as if I was watching it all through a dazed lens. The memories felt distant, like they were someone else's.

But _fuck_, if I knew that Bella Swan was such a minx in the bedroom I would have paid more attention to her in high school.

Okay, no, that's a lie. I probably wouldn't have. Sex means shit when you have the personality of a brick.

But damn, five years had been good to her.

I woke up on the morning after with a nail hammered through my head, to the sound of a crash. It wasn't a good start to the day. It took me a moment to realise who she was and what I had done. When I did, and I took in the expression on her face, I felt a foreign tug on my heart, like someone had wrapped it in a metal chain, attached that chain to a pickup truck, and revved the engine. She wasn't that confident, sexy girl she had been during the night, with the eyes of fire and touch of sparks. She was frightened and shocked and looking at me like I was her worst nightmare, with flushed cheeks and massive eyes and lips parted in terror. She was naïve and lost and confused and everything that told me that she was the innocent one and I was the one who had just sullied her, like mud splatters on driven snow.

So I apologised, and so did she, and for a moment I thought there was something there.

That was until she told me that what we had done was nothing and that it didn't matter. Of course, she didn't say it in so many words, but that is what she meant.

So, I snapped out of that weak post-sex haze, pissed her off and pushed her to her limit because she was right; it didn't mean shit, it was only sex, it was only one night, nothing had changed since high school and it wasn't going to happen again.

But when I pushed she pushed back, her words as sharp and strong as her stance, and I saw a power in her that she had never had before. She threw Doormat Bella out the window and replaced her with a girl filled with confidence and strength and an attitude that bit back. Then I saw the way she looked at me, and I saw those familiar emotions in her eyes, and I knew that I had to have her. There was something there that was never around in high school; something that Edward never hooked into. That thought made me want her even more – to pull it out of her and turn her drunken dreams into sober realities. The way she spoke of how wrong it was – of how I was his _brother_ and we shouldn't do what we did – made me need to make her mine; to make her smell like me, taste like me and want _me_ more than she ever wanted him. I wanted to make her scream my name and forget that Edward even existed. I wanted her sex with Edward to become nothing but a regretful struggle between limbs. I wanted her body and her soul and her mind and I would fight till the end to get it.

Edward could kiss my ass. I would show him what he lost, then snatch it up and throw it away and make her mine because he deserved to soak in the juices of his mistakes.

Asshole.

Bella left quickly after our deal. Nerves and reality must have hit her hard, because one minute she was nibbling at my ear, whispering for more as my hands slid down past the band of her jeans, and the next she was gone, pushing me away, grabbing her shoes and running barefooted out the door.

I didn't even get to take a breath before she was gone. It was like she swung from one personality to the other – from minx to virgin and back – within a few seconds.

I would have said she left me breathless, but that shit is old and I would have had to kick my own ass afterwards. It wasn't my fault that she was quick as fuck and wanted out.

I didn't really have a clue of what to do once she was gone. Mindlessly, I spun, looking around my ram-shackled room. Clothes were strewn everywhere. It was messier than usual. The smell of strawberries and sweat and girl still hung thick in the air. A weird looking piece of fabric was hanging off the drawer handle. Upon closer inspection, I realised it was her bra, black and lacy and sexy as hell.

The girl had gone home without a bra on.

_Fuck_.

The mere thought of it turned me on. How the hell was she that same Bella who, in high school, fawned over the bronze-haired pretty boy with the stick up his ass?

I couldn't explain it. The confusion and the shock gave me a headache, my skin hot to the touch.

It all came in a rush then.

That overwhelming feeling came to me. I started to feel that odd tingling in my fingers, which soon grew to a dull shuddering inside my body. My stomach started churning. I could feel it bubbling inside me.

I rushed to the desk in the corner of my room, brought pen to paper, only to have something actually come out, for the first time in what had to be…hell, I couldn't even remember how long it had been.

_Chill in the day and heat in the night  
>She shocks my soul and makes me feel alight.<br>A desperate kiss and a begging whisper,  
>We scratch away for something better.<br>Shock my skin and leave me breathless,  
>Baby, she's a mortal temptress.<br>Darkness falls and we turn for better,  
>With teeth and nails and a little temper.<br>But smoke will clear and morning comes,  
>With sobering thoughts, second to none.<br>She runs and hides in the light of day,  
>Leaving trails of kisses, never to stay.<br>With naïve eyes and a shocked expression,  
>She's so much different from the night's session.<br>But with whiskey veins and darkened light,  
>Baby, can't you be my devil tonight?<em>

I picked up my bass and started plucking at strings. I needed a deep line and a rough guitar and a dirty voice. I needed guts and sex and grime and something to make the whole song shake. The guitar was next, shredding out an ebbing line of give and take, female and male blending together into something with a hook. I must have been too loud, because the next thing I knew Charlotte was at my door, her eyebrows knitted.

"You're writing again."

It only took those three words to send a chill down my spine. I was nervous for what she saw when she looked at me; half naked and post-sex and desperate and finding something that I thought I had lost a long time ago. I'd be damned if I was going to lose it again.

"Inspiration struck," I shrugged nonchalantly. "It's not good. I just need to get back into it."

Charlotte nodded once, glancing quickly around my ram-shackled room. "It sounded good to me. Gravel and guts. Original music. I haven't heard that from you for a while now."

"It's a work-in-progress," I claimed.

"Are you going to show me?" she asked. Charlotte was one of my roommates and had once played drums in our old middle school band, back when we were little brats with attitude problems and acne. We didn't play together anymore, and never would again, but that didn't mean that she didn't understand. She was the only person who I let read my stuff, only because she was the only one who understood. The girl may have been delicate and petite, but when you put a pair of sticks in her hand she could slap that skin and drive a band like some wild female Norse warrior.

It was fucking insane.

"Uh…yeah…" I agreed nervously. I handed the scrap of paper to her and she read it slowly. Too slowly, in fact, because my foot started doing that twitching thing and I felt the need to explain myself. "It's…uh…a work-in-progress," I explained again. "It's just…nothing, really. I was just…writing. I don't even think…I'm not even finished yet..."

Charlotte didn't say a thing. That was the worst.

It felt like twenty minutes before she looked up at me from the paper. In reality, it was all of one minute, but my nerves were killing me. Once she did look up, that slow smile that came across her features set me at ease. What she actually said had me a little shocked.

"Who's the girl?"

Wait. "What?"

Charlotte's expression didn't change. "Your room smells like a brewery and you smell like sex. Plus, look what you've written. Who's the girl who left you _'breathless'_?"

Yup. I knew I'd have to kick myself after using that word.

Charlotte grinned at her joke. I didn't.

"She's no one. Just a fuck. It doesn't matter."

Charlotte raised an eyebrow at me before walking over and slamming the paper down on the desk.

"You've fucked a lot of girls, Jasper," she scolded, "but none have gotten you writing again."

"Who said that it's the girl that caused it?"

Charlotte shrugged all sarcastically. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because you wrote _about her_."

I didn't speak. Charlotte couldn't help but giggle.

"Just keep her around, Whitlock. She either fucked the blockage in your brain loose, or you just found the key to the door. Either way, you need it."

With that, she made her poignant exit with that little satisfied smirk, throwing one last comment over her shoulder as she went.

"Peter and I are going out for coffee. Want anything?"

"Bourbon," I replied, turning back to the guitar in my arms.

"Cappucino it is," she chirped.

"I'm not drinking that shit," I growled as she slammed the front door shut.

:::

My room was a fucking mess. That was the truth. The sheets reeked of whiskey and were thrown across the room like confetti. Charlotte would have killed me. I had only been living there for two weeks and I was already destroying the place. I went to pick the top one up, bundling it into a ball and lobbing it into the full laundry basket in the corner. When I went to get the one still on the mattress, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest.

Blood. Blood on my sheet. There was a blotch of blood on the sheet. Why the fuck was there blood on the sheet?

It wasn't a lot of blood. It was just a blotch; smaller than my palm. But it was still blood. Blood. Fucking blood. I knew that I hadn't bled, and those sheets were fresh two days before.

Blood.

It wasn't hard to piece it together. There were only two explanations as to why there would be blood on my sheets, and one was just preposterous.

Bella had to have been on the rag. I was well-informed with the workings of woman-parts. It came with the territory. Bella had to be on the rag. Maybe she had got it that morning or unknowingly during the night as she slept. Although I couldn't remember much about the actual sex, I do certainly remember that there was no tampon blocking my path. She definitely didn't _already _have it. The only difficulty we had had was getting the condom on.

The other explanation was unthinkable.

Bella wasn't a virgin. She couldn't have been a virgin. She dated Edward for three fucking years, and I knew for a fact that his divinity had been sullied early on.

Bella wasn't a virgin. I knew what sex with a virgin was like, and Bella was no fucking virgin.

_But alcohol can do wonderful things for one's sexuality_.

Fuck. Bella was no virgin. Why the hell would she fuck _me_ if she was a virgin? Bella wasn't a virgin. She was on the rag. She had to be. She had to be.

_She had to be_.

No virgin would agree to become fuck buddies with the first guy they slept with. They just wouldn't. Bella wasn't a fucking virgin. She had to be twenty-three years old. Even if Edward _hadn't_ gotten in her pants, some guy in college _must have_. I may have wanted her, but I didn't want her v-card.

She was on the rag. She had to be on the rag.

But how could I be sure? I couldn't just _ask _her. _Hey, Bella, just a quick question before we get to business: I'm not the first guy to get into your pants, right? Because that would really fuck shit up, and there was blood on my sheets, so I'm just guessing that you are on the rag._

Yeah, that would go down well.

What the fuck was I supposed to do?

I had no fucking idea.

:::

Sunday rolled around and I still didn't have an answer for my predicament. I didn't get out of bed until midday. Peter and Charlotte had rose hours earlier. The two were my roommates. We were old friends from middle school, having played in the same crappy garage band without a singer. We reunited in college, and the two had been dating since sophomore year in high school. They were my closest friends; or only friends, depending how you looked at it. Either way, they were there.

When I walked into the living room both of them were there, talking quietly; even quieter once I appeared. I was lugging my bag of washing on my back, heading down to the Laundromat. They both looked at me like I was death. The sight made me freeze.

Neither spoke. Peter looked up at me and plastered on a grin. Charlotte didn't even try to fake it. I knew what was coming before it did.

"Your father called for you," Charlotte said quietly.

My eyebrows knitted because that shit was impossible. Charlotte knew the mistake, and Peter corrected it.

"Carlisle. He called for you," Peter explained.

I shrugged my shoulders and hitched up the backpack. You could have sliced through the tension with a knife. I wanted to get out.

"Why?"

"He wants you to call him back. He didn't say what it was about," Charlotte answered.

I didn't say a word in reply. I merely grabbed my keys and wallet off the bench and told them where I was going.

"I'm off to do laundry. I'll pick up food on the way back."

Neither said anything as I walked out the door. Both of them knew well enough that Carlisle calling meant dick to me.

It felt good to get some fresh air, even if it was pouring with rain outside. The Laundromat was only a block away. I took it at a run and within a minute had burst through the door. The place was very quiet, and soon my laundry – including the sheets – was in the machine. Watching it spin made me feel sick, and sitting in the plastic seats I started to freeze my ass off. I couldn't get the thought of the blood out of my head. Without knowing for sure what the hell caused it, my mind was set into a tailspin. As well as that, the fact that Carlisle had called bugged me. The only time he ever called was when he was pissed about something or expecting something from me. Either way, I wasn't calling him back. The asshole could shove it where the sun doesn't shine.

In order to get some air and warm myself up, I decided to jog down to the coffee shop. All the while my phone was buzzing in my pocket. When I got inside, I didn't expect to see the person that I did, standing behind the counter frothing milk for a guy in a suit with a phone latched to his ear, yelling at someone.

:::

**Bella:**

I woke up on Sunday hangover-free and regret-filled; so regret-filled that I would have grabbed the nearest bottle of spirits and numbed my brain…if I didn't have to go to work.

Okay, so I didn't really _have _to go to work that day, but I said I would cover shifts. Most people wanted a long holiday over that weekend, and weekend rates were time and a half. Plus, I needed to pay the rent.

So instead of sitting in my juices at home, milling over everything that I had done wrong on the comfort of the sofa, I could do it at work while I mopped coffee grime off the floor.

I worked in a little coffee shop not twenty minutes' walk from my apartment, and had for about two years. There was a certain monotony and predictability to my day at work that settled me. Every day the same people came in for their same cup of coffee at the same time. All were living their lives which my coffee helped to fuel. It was a sort of routine that calmed me. There was nothing unruly or unpredictable or uncertain about it. No risk, no foul. It was life.

But the weekend was a bit different. I hardly ever worked the weekends. People came in at different times, sporadically. They were different faces, too, and that unsettled me.

When I arrived at the coffee shop I unlocked, flipped on the 'open' sign and started to mop the floor and prepare for the day. All the while I preoccupied myself with self-deprecation. The topic of the day: Jasper Whitlock.

There were two sides of me arguing over the topic. One was the horny side that had its mind blown by what it felt like to have his hands on me, rough and calloused and hot and desperate. That side wanted to keep the contact going as long as possible no matter what. That was the side that won out the war of the morning after, giving into temptation instead of standing for logic.

The other side of me was the one that regretted everything; the side that set in after a few hours and once the hangover was gone and the post-sex haze had lifted. It was the side that reminded me of how my muscles ached and how my lady-parts felt weird and raw and open and didn't want anything in them for a few more days. That side also reminded me of exactly why I shouldn't have had anything to do with Jasper.

How could I bring myself to be fuck buddies with Jasper after what his family had done to me and to Charlie? How could I honour Charlie's memory if I was sleeping with a member of the family who tore us apart so easily? How could I have let Jasper be the one to take my virginity after everything Charlie had done for me? How could I sleep with Jasper knowing that Edward was his _brother_, and knowing what had happened between Edward and I, and knowing what Jasper had _been_ in high school? How could I do that to Charlie and to myself? Angela was right; it wasn't healthy. How could I move on while fucking Jasper Whitlock?

I couldn't. That was the simple truth. I couldn't do it.

But then being with him felt _so good_. He made me feel beautiful and alive and wanted, like sparks were flying; making me feel real and tangible and hot for the first time since I left Arizona all those years before. He made me actually feel _something_. He made me feel lust and need and heat and instincts that I never knew I had before. It was like an awakening.

What was the harm when it was just sex? _Just sex_. It was _just sex_.

I couldn't decide what option was better. My head was telling me that it was wrong, but I had this basic gut instinct telling me that it was right, and that it felt _so right_, and that I needed_ more_.

For about three hours I mulled over the issue before my entire day was thrown into a tailspin. I was finishing off a flat white for the guy in a suit when a familiar voice greeted me, completely throwing all order to the wind.

"Bella? Is that you?"

I looked up from the frothing milk and straight into a pair of blue eyes. Immediately I remembered looking into those eyes as he delved into me, filling me, stretching me around him as I wriggled into the snug fit, begging for more and clutching at his back, pulling him to me.

I averted my eyes back to the milk, feeling unsettled and embarrassed and intensely self-conscious.

"Jasper," I greeted in monotone, feeling my cheeks heating up with blush, embarrassed to be seeing him in the daylight, sober, filled with regret but still day dreaming about that night.

"I didn't know you worked here," he said, his voice still filled with surprise.

I shrugged absently and finished off the coffee, sliding it towards my co-worker who took it to the man in the suit.

"Stale coffee and demanding customers are my calling," I retorted.

Jasper smiled. I remembered how he had smiled that way as I positioned myself on top of him, taking a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle, kissing his chest and writhing about, feeling him hard and pressing against me and –

No.

"So," Jasper began, his eyes going all suggestive and seductive and steamy, hinting at me. My eyes dragged down his body, soaked wet with the rain, his grey t-shirt sticking to his chest like glue and his blonde curls plump with water. His tongue darted out over his bottom lip. I had to slam my hands to my sides to stop myself from mauling him; from reaching out and pulling his hard body against mine, crushing my lips to his, chapped on chapped, hot and cold. "I was thinking…are you busy tonight? Maybe we could…meet up…"

His voice trailed off, hot and husky, and the smell of warmth and coffee and rain and him made me go all weak-kneed.

But then I remembered the ache between my legs, and I couldn't imagine putting anything else in there, at least for another few days.

"Uh…I can't," I blurted out without a thought.

Jasper raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Why? _Why?_ What was I supposed to tell him; that I was a virgin until we fucked and my lady-parts hurt and I didn't want him inside of me even though my instincts were telling me to buck my hips and take him right there?

No. No fucking way. I had to develop an excuse; a better one than aching lady-parts.

Then it came to me.

"I'm…uh…I have my period."

Jasper's reaction surprised me. He smiled.

"Oh, right, yeah. That's cool," he said quickly. "You don't want to anyway? I mean, some girls like it more."

_Ugh._

"No," I denied. "No. No way. I don't. Not me."

If I wasn't blushing before, by then I was red as a tomato.

Jasper grinned again, pushing away from the counter, looking oddly calm. "Great. Awesome. Well, uh, let me know when you're…ready…then"

Jasper's eyes raked up and down my body at the thought. I could almost feel his hands touching me, running across my stomach, my breasts, in between my legs, caressing me tenderly, pulling me to him as he moaned and I whispered and we both cried out for more, tugging on skin, needing to go deeper. My body made the most feral reaction it could, wetting between my legs whilst chills shot up my spine, wanting him.

Oh fucking hell.

"Wait," I called as Jasper went to turn and leave, needing to fix this and feeling that guilt build up again. "I need to talk to you."

Jasper spun back around and looked at me curiously. I called out to Lucy, my co-worker, "Lucy, I'm taking my break!"

Jasper looked confused. I rushed out from behind the counter and tugged him over to a table in the corner of the room, away from prying ears. He looked shaken.

"Wow, okay," he laughed, straightening himself up. "What's this about?"

"We need to set some ground rules," I said quickly, yanking my arm away from his grip. My body wanted him but my head didn't. How the hell was I supposed to feel good about myself when I knew that getting too close to him could mean betraying everything I loved? I couldn't. All I could do was set barriers to ensure that we were nothing but sex. I could feel good physically by being with him but also emotionally good because I wasn't getting too close and betraying my father and subjecting myself to a return of everything that his family put us through.

Jasper looked at me all funny, amused and confused and angry and interested all at the same time. "Ground rules? What sort of ground rules?"

"It's _just sex_," I explained, dead-serious.

Jasper chuckled. "We've established that."

"But there are _rules,_" I enunciated. Jasper's eyebrows knitted. He had never been a fan of rules in high school, so I didn't know how well it would go over. "No sleeping or cuddling afterwards. No sharing of personal information or small-talk. You don't need to know what's going on in my life and I don't need to know what's going on in yours. No contact outside sex. We don't need to hang out or go to the movies or anything else. It's _just sex _and _nothing_ else. Got it?"

Jasper looked shocked; shocked and confused. I stayed strong in my resolution, raising an eyebrow in expectation. I wasn't going to negotiate on the terms.

"You drive a hard bargain," he noted, watching me carefully, his eyes on mine, making me feel raw and exposed and strange and warm, Texan accent coming through, steamy and husky and making me crave more. But I couldn't, because it was wrong and I needed time to think. He took his time to continue, slow and steady and measured, watching me carefully, seeing whether I would have any reaction at all. I made sure there was none.

"Fine, it's a deal," he agreed finally. Jasper then reached in to his pocket, pulling out a scrap piece of paper. "Here's my number. Call me when you're ready."

I took the piece of paper from him, careful not to let our skin touch, and a little smile appeared on his lips.

"See you 'round, Bella," he said as he walked off, taking that smile and the heat with him, while I resisted the urge to grab his arm and pull him to me and lay rough, sweet kisses on his neck.

* * *

><p><strong>Your praise has absolutely blown me away. You are all so amazing. I never expected such kind words. I want to say a special thank you to LetItRock, a good friend of mine who kicked my ass and encouraged me to put this story out here. Thank you, lovely.<strong>

**If you were in a band, which part would you play?**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm **_**so**_** sorry that this is so terribly late. I've been quite sick lately, and exams are coming up soon, so things have been busy.**

**LithiumReaper is my amazing beta. Thank you for all of your hard work and encouragement, lovely. You're amazing. Her music recommendations are fantastic, by the way, and she has to be one of the fastest betas on the planet. Thank you, so much :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Jasper:<strong>

Bella had rules. Everyone on the entire damn _planet_ had rules. Don't drink when you're underage, don't mouth off to elders, and don't have sex until you're of age – all of these fucking_ rules._ Some of them were just bullshit. Me? I believed that, under the right circumstance, any rule could be broken, so I avoided making any of my own. Yet, if I wanted to keep hooking up with Bella, I had to obey by the rules.

It was fucking shit.

The rules weren't too limiting, and weren't preventing anything that I wanted to do anyway, but _damn_, just the knowledge that they were _there _was making me want to test them; push the limits, just that little bit.

It was a bit of a predicament.

The good point that came out of the whole shambles at the coffee shop was that Bella hadn't been a virgin. I was off the hook. I couldn't even imagine the repercussions if she _had_ been. I had already shit on her father's memory enough by sleeping with her. If she had have been a virgin, that would just have been plain wrong. For all that Charlie did for me, and for all that we did to him, it would have been blasphemy. Not only that, but Edward would have had a hissy fit because he hadn't done it in high school, and Carlisle probably would have wanted to castrate me. After fucking up his perfect family I was pretty high on his hit list. He would take any reason to cut me down, even if it was Bella.

I went home in a better mood than I had been in when I left, picking up Chinese food on the way for Peter and Charlotte. The phone was ringing when I opened the door. Charlotte picked it up the moment I stepped into the living room, dropping the food on the kitchen counter. Peter was riffling in the fridge, and upon hearing me pointed at the beer in his hand and silently asked if I wanted one. I nodded just as Charlotte's voice took me by surprise.

"Oh, hi Rosalie, how are you?"

Peter stared at me, shocked, but you could see the little smile appearing on his lips. I kept listening intently.

"Uh, yes it's Charlotte. Uh… Jasper? You want to talk to Jasper?"

I spun around and shook my head as Charlotte stared at me. I didn't want to talk to Rosalie. Normally, I would have, because she was my sister and I loved her, but that day was different. She had no doubt been assigned to get a hold of me after Carlisle had failed. He had been ringing me all day, my phone going off in my pocket every five minutes. I wasn't in the mood for his shit, and I most certainly wasn't in the mood to listen to my sister playing messenger. My head was already spinning over the whole mess with Bella. I couldn't deal with whatever Carlisle wanted from me. Charlotte got the message.

"I'm sorry, Rosalie. He actually just left. I could get him to –"

Charlotte's eyes widened. I knew it was all going downhill from there. Rosalie could always see through my bullshit, whether she was talking to me or not.

"Alright, here he is," Charlotte chuckled, pulling the phone from her ear and holding it out to me. "Jasper, Rosalie wants to talk to you, and says that you have to cut the shit and take the phone."

Behind me I could hear Peter trying to stifle his laughter. I groaned, snatched my beer off the counter, took the phone out of Charlotte's hand and walked into my room.

"What?" I asked as soon as the door was shut.

"Nice to talk to you too, Jay," Rosalie snipped, dropping her nickname for me to make the point. Through the annoyance, I smiled at the fire in her voice.

"What do you want?" I enunciated. Rosalie went to answer, but I interrupted, feeling angry and wanting to take it out on someone. "Or, more to the point: what does Carlisle want you to tell me?"

She dropped the nickname shit immediately. "Jasper," she sighed. "Don't be like that, please?"

Her voice went from fiery to pleading and quiet; from strong to weak. I hated that. I wanted her to fight with me and prove me wrong. I wanted Rosie back. But I couldn't have her. Cullen men always had that unnatural ability to steal a girl's spark – even at the mere mention of them.

"You know, I've never really understood how you can protect him like you do, after everything he's done."

Rosalie sighed again, tired. "He has been good to us, Jasper. You know that," she said weakly. I didn't want her to tell me what I knew. I wanted her to scream and scratch and bite and snip at me with wit and ferocity like she used to. "He's mom's husband. He's your _father_. You need to stop this."

"He's not my father," I told her, wanting to scream it to the world and make it known. Out of anyone, she knew that the best. "And he's not yours _either_."

Rosalie sighed again. To me, that signalled that she didn't want to argue anymore.

"I didn't call to argue with you," she told me, and then I felt a pang of guilt overcoming everything else, because Rosalie was my sister and she was going through a tough time and I was meant to help her and support her. That was the whole point of moving back.

"Right," I nodded, although she couldn't see it. "Sorry."

There was a pause and a husky breath. She had something to say, and she needed to stop the awkward talk and spit it out.

"Emmett's coming home in three weeks," she said. I could hear a little bit of that spark coming back at the thought of him.

Emmett had been stationed in Afghanistan, and was just over five months into his six month tour. Rosalie was also just over six months into her first pregnancy, and it wasn't going easy for her. Reality came crashing back at the thought of it all.

"You must be excited," I noted.

There was a small gasp of breath and then silence on Rosalie's end. The sound made me want to reach out and hug her tight. Only, I couldn't.

The fact killed me.

Rosalie was silent for quite a long time. I could imagine her trying to capture her breath; trying to find the right words and make them sound okay. I could see her struggling, even though she wasn't around.

"I'm scared, Jay," she said at last. I could hear the tears choking her. I wanted to stop them.

"Rosie," I breathed, battling for the right words like she had just done. I couldn't find them, so I went for something simple. "What are you scared of?"

There was another husky, strained breath. I clamped my mouth shut to give her time to breathe.

"Everything," she admitted. I could hear the tears in her eyes. "I'm scared for the baby and for Emmett and for…everything."

I knew exactly what that _everything_ was. It scared me sometimes, too.

I resented the fact that Emmett had to leave her like he did. I resented the fact that Rosalie was stuck in Forks, waiting around for him to come home, carrying his child after trying to get pregnant had hurt her so much, stuck under Carlisle's control and being forced to play a role that she wasn't born to play; a role that, growing up, she had hated. Our own father had been killed in the army, and Rosalie had always stood firm in her ground that she would never become what our mother was; the wife that was left home, alone, waiting for news nervously, wondering whether her husband had made it through the day alive. I resented that Emmett had been willing to leave her alone there; that, even though she loved him and he loved her and they brought out the best in each other, he was still stuck under his father's thumb to the point that Carlisle still controlled their lives and moulded them to become what he wanted them to be; that Emmett wasn't there for her through the tough times in her pregnancy. I resented the fact that loving Emmett had changed my sister so much; had stolen her spark and fire and made her fear life instead of live it. I resented that, when I saw her, she cried instead of laughed and sat silent instead of argued.

Even though I respected Emmett for what he fought for and loved him like a brother, I hated the fact that he let Rosalie be left alone, under Carlisle's controlling thumb for months on end. I resented that it all scared her to death, and she called me in tears every week because of it.

It wasn't Rosie, and I didn't know how to comfort her because I knew that, whatever I said, it would never fully satisfy her.

"Rosie," I breathed, trying to find the words that would soothe her.

Rosalie wasn't having any of it, though. I heard her take a deep breath. Then, she stopped my advances.

"When Emmett gets back we are having a welcome home dinner – just the family. I want you to be there. It would mean a lot to me, and I know it would mean a lot to mom. She misses you."

My want to be there for Rosalie for anything she needed and my resentment of Carlisle was in direct conflict at that moment. I had made the move from Texas to be there for Rosalie while Emmett was away, because she had asked me to and because the pregnancy wasn't going very well and she didn't want to be alone, but I often made a purposeful attempt to steer clear of the rest of the family as much as possible.

"I'm not sure the good Doctor would want me there to spoil that special family moment," I noted.

"I don't care," Rosalie snapped defiantly, and I saw a glimmer of the real Rosie. "You're _my _family. You're my _brother_. I need you here when he gets home. It's just…it's just going to be hard."

I understood just how hard it was going to be for her. That memory sparked a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Are the twins going to be there?" I asked quickly, swallowing the lump hanging thick in my throat.

There was a short pause. Then Rosalie answered. "Yes. Alice is coming over from New York a few days beforehand and Edward is flying back over from Australia in two weeks' time."

Alice had been working in a graphic design company since she graduated college. We had always had the weirdest of relationships. She was the strangest of creatures; one part pixie and two parts crazy. We had never dated, but we had never had anything near a normal functioning relationship. The girl changed face too quickly for me to keep up, and that made me continuously question her motives.

Pretty Boy, on the other hand, was a completely different story. With a damn near fist-fight on the first day we met in seventh grade, we wanted to kill each other from the start. Edward was entitled, arrogant, judgemental, and had a silver spoon shoved down his throat the size of Russia. I was defiant, angry and the world, reclusive and stubborn, and we butted heads like nobody's business – never stopped, either. I hadn't seen him in over a year, mainly because we both made conscious decisions to stay out of each other's lives after the shit that went down in Forks. Seeing him again would not be enjoyable.

"Are you sure it's a good idea? I mean, it might not be fun."

Rosalie groaned. She was about to tell me off, and I couldn't wait.

"I'm _trusting_ that you won't do anything to stir the pot, Jasper. I know it's not going to be a meeting of rainbows and sunshine, but I need you to be _civil_, or _at least_ treat Carlisle and Edward with indifference, okay? Emmett would love to have everyone around when he gets back. Just do it for him, okay? And for me. Do it for both of us. This baby is going to be here in a few months, and it would be nice to have a family that could at least stand to be in the same room without killing each other. Please, just try, Jay."

She always knew how to get to me and play the right cards. The baby – the baby that was my niece or nephew – was the trump card, and I couldn't turn away from that.

"Alright," I agreed, running a hand through my hair and trying to shake my thoughts clear. "I'll be there, and I'll play happy little family. But I'm staying in a motel, okay? I won't be able to stand staying in that house with mom playing home-maker and Carlisle playing doting-dad like they're not the most dysfunctional family on the planet."

"You could stay with Emmett and I," Rosalie offered.

I shook my head. "No. Thanks, though. You guys deserve some time alone after everything."

Rosalie breathed a sigh of relief, and a voice of absolute sincerity came through. "Thank you, Jay. I love you, you know."

It all made my heart break.

"Yeah... You too, Rosie."

With that, there was a click on the other end. Rosie was gone.

.:.

I was never the type of person to stay in one place for too long. It was true, even when I was a little kid. Being an army brat, we moved around a lot. I was used to it. It was the way I liked to live. I didn't like to be confined to one place, one person, or one area for too long – or even at all. I think that is part of the reason why Forks ate at me when we moved there. It was so stagnant; green and heavy and glugging. Staying there for all those years – from seventh grade till the end of my senior year – was like torture to me. I was busting to get out, and once I did, I sought the heat of the South. Moving back up north five months ago, when Emmett left, brought back that weird creeping feeling I had developed in Forks. I was restless. Within five months of being in Washington I had lived in three different towns and seven different houses. Charlotte and Peter's apartment was number seven, and I hoped like hell that I could stay there for longer, but even then, only after a few weeks, it was starting to get under my skin. I had already been in Seattle for a month and a half. The dampness of it all scratched at my skin, like I needed a fresh start; somewhere with warmth and movement and vitality.

Moving around so much, I specialised in nothing but had at least a little skill in everything. In Seattle, I had gotten a job as a painter in order to pay the rent. Tuesday we were on a new job, painting an elderly lady's dining room beige.

"Beige," Garrett snipped as he lugged two cans of paint through the door as I laid the masking tape. "I fucking _hate_ beige. Why the hell does everyone think it is such an enticing colour? It is _nothing_. It's _beige_." Garrett punctuated his disgust by loudly dropping the tins onto the floor.

His disgust made me laugh. Garrett was tall and lanky and wore his long, sandy hair tied back with a hair tie. He was one of those adventurous, curious types who wore tie-dye shirts and went on freedom camping adventures every weekend. Beige wasn't his thing.

"Beige is _neutral_," I enunciated. "People love staying neutral. Why pick a side when you can sit on the fence and stay out of the heat? Red or green or blue _say_ something about you. Beige says 'I'm proper' or 'I'm accommodating' or 'I'm completely _fucking_ normal'. It's human nature in paint form."

Garrett laughed at me. "Well aren't we particularly cynical today? What's got your panties in a bunch?"

I slopped some paint into the tray and picked up a roller, still steaming under the stress of everything; under Rosalie's phone call and Bella and Carlisle and how I hadn't been able to play a good riff since Saturday and everything else that pissed me off.

"Don't go there," I huffed, laying paint on the wall and drowning my thoughts in the rhythm of the roller.

Garrett wasn't having any of it, though. Grabbing another roller and getting to his own work, he didn't let it drop.

"You're going to have to tell me now, man. Elephant's in the room."

I scowled at him. He grinned at me. I felt like rolling the roller over that smiling face, but then decided against it.

"It's a long story," I excused.

"We have time," Garrett noted, motioning to the large room we had to work on. "May as well do something to fill in the time."

I shrugged it all away. I didn't want to talk about the family shit. That stuff was too complicated to discuss in the workplace. I didn't want to talk about Bella, either. That shit was just confusing. Then again, I might be able to give him a dumbed-down version and get him off my back.

"There's this girl," I began, and before I had a chance to continue he was putting in his two cents worth.

"A _girl?_" he repeated. "Dude, I never picked you as the kind of guy who would brood over a _girl_. She must be special."

Rolling his face was looking more and more appealing.

"I'm not brooding," I told him. "It's not like that."

Garrett raised an eyebrow. "What's it like, then?"

I took a deep breath, took to rolling, and went to explain. "We've made a deal, I guess. Fuck buddies, no strings attached," I explained. Garrett nodded in complete understanding. I continued trying to explain the problem, but I realised that I couldn't without sounding like an asshole. It wouldn't make sense to tell him that she made my music muse flow and the boundaries she set ate at me. So I went down a route that didn't really make any sense at all. "Well, it's just…she confuses me, man. I can't get my head around her. It's like she has multiple personality disorder. She likes fucking, but then beats herself up about it later. It does my head in, you know? And now she's set all these rules like she doesn't want it, but she _does_. It's just…_chicks_, man."

Garrett was silent for a few moments. Then, he came at me, questioning what was going on more than I wanted him to.

"So…what's your problem with it? Are the rules getting to you or what?"

"No. No way. It's just…just…she's just…she's _confusing me_, man," I tried to explain.

He wasn't having a bar of it. "Jasper, the whole point of having a fuck buddy is that it _shouldn't _be confusing. She's fucking you, therefore she wants it. You don't need to give a shit about the other emotional crap. That's the brilliance of it. You don't need to know her and she doesn't need to know you. Just as long as your parts like each other, it's _sweet_."

Yeah. But it was different with Bella because we did know each other, and there was dark history there that could bubble up and confuse the hell out of me.

But I wasn't going to tell him that.

"I know that. It's just…it does my head in, because I don't want her to do something that she doesn't want to do."

Garrett nodded along in understanding. "But _she_ set the rules, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then she wants it. By setting the rules it means that she is _very_ aware of what she's doing. Man, you should be relieved about that. She knows what's up, and she's setting parameters. Granted, there are no-doubt some reasons _why_ she set the rules which you don't _really _want to get into, so just keep it simple and keep it clean. She clearly wants it, so you're sweet. It's not like this is some fucking exclusive relationship or anything. It's just a fuck buddy, and she's a big girl. She knows what's up. _Chill_."

I kept quiet at the mention of that, realising that we hadn't actually set _that_ rule.

Garrett caught on immediately. "Holy shit. Dude. You _aren't_ exclusive, right? Please tell me you've set _that_ rule. Because if you _are,_ then she's _not_ just a fuck buddy."

"Yeah, I know," I told him. "I mean, we're not exclusive. At least…at least I think we're not."

Garrett's eyes bulged. "You _think_?"

I felt like a complete idiot. "Well, we haven't actually discussed _that_ rule yet."

Garrett frowned at me, looking like he wanted to slap my hand and give me a scolding. "Well you better damn discuss it, man. You don't want there to be animosity and confusion when you find another girl you'd like to have a bit of fun with. Do it now before you fuck it up."

Garrett was right. I knew the clichés. I'd seen the movie. If I didn't set what we were straight, who knows what could happen if shit hit the fan.

.:.

**Bella:**

The next few days passed slowly. I worked all day, every day, and was still dwelling over everything that was happening. I knew that, in some ways, it wasn't healthy to do what we were doing. Then again, in some ways it was good, because it made me feel good and alive and I was actually doing something that held a little _risk_ for once in my life. But it was controlled risk. Control. I just had to keep that.

When Friday night rolled around, the animal inside of me started eating at me. I figured that enough time had passed to say that my 'period' was over, and I no longer felt pain between my legs. In fact, all I felt was that undeniable _need_ to have rough hands create friction with my skin. So, with shaking hands, I pulled out that little piece of paper and dialled Jasper's number. He answered on the fourth ring.

"Hello?" he greeted. His voice was husky, like he had just woken up. It only made me crave him more, all sleepy-eyed and beautiful.

"Jasper, it's Bella," I answered nervously.

There was a shaky silence on his end. It made me even more nervous. When he finally spoke, I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hi, Bella. Uh...what's up?"

I stood up from my bed quickly, realising I hadn't shut the door to my room. Angela had Ben over, and I didn't want either of them hearing.

"What are you doing tonight?" I asked as I shut the door.

There was a pause, a deep breath, and then finally he spoke. "Nothing. Why?"

"Guess," I chimed.

"I can be over there in half an hour," he answered.

"Uh…no…" I hesitated, hearing Angela's laughter. "My roommate is staying in. It would be awkward."

Jasper paused for a moment before offering a solution. "My roommates are going out at nine for the night. You can come over at nine thirty, if you want."

My heart leapt into my throat at the offer. I craved it, but I was still nervous as hell.

"See you then," I agreed.

.:.

I felt like an absolute idiot. Casual sex was not supposed to make you feel this awkward. I didn't know what to do. With two hours to kill, I jumped into the shower and meandered around. I shaved my legs. _Three_ times. I washed my hair, and then washed it again. I lathered my body with frothy, strawberry body wash. Then I just let the hot water shower over me, uncoiling the muscles in my back. Once I was done, I scanned my closet for something to wear. What do you wear to a rendezvous? Clothes wouldn't be on for that long anyway.

Hell, I had no idea, so I just closed my eyes and picked up a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt. I put on my nicest pair of panties and bra; black and lacy, with red undertones. After that, I grabbed my bag and headed out the door, telling Angela I would be home late. Nerves were killing me as I walked out onto the road and hailed a cab at quarter past nine.

What the _hell _was I doing?

I knew it was wrong. Fuck, did I know it was wrong. But it was also so _right_. It was one of those weird paradoxes where I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I did it anyway – like when you eat that extra piece of cake, knowing that you don't _need_ it, but you throw dieting to the wind and eat it anyway.

Jasper was my cake, and I was going to have my cake and eat it too.

Oh hell.

When I arrived at Jasper's door it took me a few moments to grow the courage to knock. Once I did, it felt like a lifetime before he opened the door. I had never done anything like this before. Being drunk and having sex was one thing. Soberly organising a rendezvous was a completely different ball game.

The door swung open, revealing Jasper standing there in all of his glory; shaggy haired, sleepy eyed and wearing a casual black t-shirt and jeans that were splattered with flecks of pant. It was something Edward would never be seen dead in, and silently I thanked the heavens that they were such polar opposites. I swung back on my heels and smiled at him. I could feel myself starting to blush already.

"Hi," Jasper greeted as I stood there, my heart thumping in my chest, completely lost as to what to do.

"Hi," I replied, trying to sound sexy and enticing but failing miserably.

Jasper watched me for a few seconds as I tried to act sexy, or at least vaguely appealing. I seemed to be successful at neither, but he still asked me in.

"Well…uh…come inside," he offered, stepping aside to let me through. As I did I raked my eyes up and down his body, feeling that unmistakable feral attraction to him, remembering how it had felt on top of me through the drunken haze.

"Thanks," I said as I passed.

Jasper shut the door behind me before speaking, his tone nonchalant. "So, do you want a drink or anything?" He slid into the kitchen and opened the fridge. "We have…uh…beer. Or there's soda. Or…uh…milk." He undid the cap and sniffed inside, his face scrunching in disgust. "Okay, no, not milk."

I didn't want a drink. I didn't want food. I didn't want anything but his body up against mine. And it seemed like he had forgotten one of the main points of the whole deal. So, to punctuate it, I walked into the kitchen and pushed the fridge door closed, pinning myself between it and him. Jasper watched me carefully, taken by surprise, as I closed the gap between us and pushed my body against his. It was a bold move – perhaps the boldest thing I had ever done – but something else was coming over me. At that moment, I resented the thin pieces of fabric separating us.

"We don't need to play host, remember?" I reminded him. "Isn't that the whole point of this?"

Jasper looked thoroughly confused for a moment. Then, a smile started to appear, and suddenly he closed the gap between us even more, leaning down to me; so close that I could feel his hot breath raising hairs on my neck.

"Then what do you suggest?"

His voice was husky and steaming and sexy. I may have been wrong about the last bold move. It wasn't the boldest thing I had ever done. What I was _about _to do, was.

Pursing my lips, I didn't reply to his question. Instead, my hands went to the waistband of his jeans, my index fingers curling around it. My skin brushed against the heat of his pelvis and I could hardly resist him. Tugging at his waistband, I pulled him even closer to me so that our bodies were pressed hard against each other, our body heat merging into one cloud, the fabrics of our clothes scratching at our skin. My fingers brushed against the tender skin of his hips as I finally spoke.

"You already know what I suggest."

Jasper smiled at my answer; a devilish smile, his blue eyes twinkling with hidden secrets and obvious desire. One of his hands moved to my cheek, teasing me, and our lips lightly skimmed each other. He tasted like oranges and cinnamon, and I was begging for more. Slowly, our kisses became more passionate, his tongue searching my mouth, sensitive yet rough at the same time; perfect.

My fingers wrapped themselves tighter around the waistband of his jeans, tugging at it and moaning into his mouth. I felt hot, my heart already speeding in my chest. I wanted to shed my restrictive clothes and feel his hot, heavy weight over me. I wanted him right then, as his shaggy curls skimmed against my cheeks and his chapped lips danced with mine. It seemed like he wanted the same thing, because I suddenly felt his hands go to my behind, lifting me up and setting me on the kitchen counter.

I kissed him harder, giggling as he picked me up and set me down, wrapping my legs tightly around his hips. I could feel him getting hard between my legs, and I desperately wanted those pants off. I wanted him inside of me. I wanted to re-live what we had done that night. I wanted limbs and sweat and heat and passion, and I wanted it immediately. Desperately, I kissed him harder and deeper, barely taking a break to catch my breath. Jasper responded immediately, moving to my neck, trailing long, hot kisses down it. I felt his hands leave my waist and go to the bottom of my t-shirt, pulling it straight over my head in one fluid motion. In that small break, our eyes caught, and I saw that same lustful look I remembered from New Years.

Jasper moved to my collarbone, laying rough, sweet kisses along it. I shivered in response, shots of ecstasy radiating down my spine. He then moved down my torso, over my breasts, cupping and squeezing them as his sweet, _sweet_ mouth made me moan. It all came so fast; a feral reaction that I wasn't expecting. I craved to buck my hips and let him fill me, and so I pulled his face up to mine and begged for more.

"Fuck me, _please_."

Blue, blue eyes met mine for a split second, questioning. Then, without a second thought, he picked me up from the kitchen counter – his mouth meeting mine again – and began to walk me to his bedroom.

His room was musty and dark. The floor was still coated in paper and the bed was unmade. It all had that dark, deep, dirty feel that made me crave him more. Slowly, Jasper set me on the bed, reluctant to break contact, and I immediately shuffled back, struggling with the clasp on my jeans. My chewed-down nails fumbled over it, and I could feel a creeping blush from the pressure of it all. Just as I wanted to scream at them, telling them to get off, a pair of large, hot, calloused hands covered mine, calming them. I looked up to see Jasper, his shirt now gone, smiling at me as he unclasped the buckle and helped me wriggle out of them.

As soon as the jeans were thrown aside and his eyes scanned over my body, I started blushing again, desperately shielding my face from view. I felt like a nervous little girl.

Jasper chuckled lightly and peeled my hands away. His rough palms roamed over my skin, leaving trails of goose bumps. He went to brush a curl of hair out of my eyes, watching me intently, and I smiled at him as my hands found the buckle of his jeans.

It didn't take me long to work them out. Once the zipper was down I pulled him to me, kissing him deeply. My hands roamed down his torso, trailing over his muscular chest. I could feel the indents and bumps of little scars over his body. Soon, my palms rested on his hips, and I tried to push his pants down over his erection. Jasper smiled into our kiss then, removing a hand from my breast to take them off himself. They were soon shoved to the side, and a new blush started to creep at the thought of sneaking a look. I didn't dare.

Our hands continued to roam over each other's bodies. Jasper's hand soon snuck behind my back and unclasped my bra. My breasts sprang free, and he was soon tendering to them; massaging them in his palms, laying sweet kisses over them and taking my nipple into his mouth, his hot tongue making me cry out in pleasure, my hips bucking into him as I clutched his back and tugged him to me.

I tried to do something useful with my own hands. Untangling one from his hair, I reached down and grabbed his erect penis. Jasper took a raspy breath as I began rubbing up and down his length, tenderly brushing against his head. Only then did I realise how big he actually was, and questioned how he had actually _fit _inside of me. But that question soon left me as I heard him whisper my name.

"_Fuck_, Bella. Oh _fuck_."

His eyes were closed in arousal as I rubbed his length. I couldn't help but smile at the thought that I was giving him pleasure. Jasper's own hand soon went down to my panties, slipping beneath the thin fabric and rubbing sweet circles on my skin. I couldn't help but arch into his hand. Soon, his eyes opened, and he questioned me.

"Ready?"

I could barely do anything but nod, chewing my lip in an attempt to not scream out in pleasure.

"Condom?" I managed to squeak out.

Jasper nodded, and quickly retrieved a condom from the dresser. As he put it on I slipped off my panties, not wanting to waste any time; needing to feel him inside me. Soon, Jasper was done, and he was positioning himself over me, his face flushed and his eyes gleaming. I opened my legs for him, needing him.

"Ready?" he asked sincerely, watching my every reaction. I could only nod nervously, chewing my lip again. That was when, slowly, Jasper started to enter me.

I gasped at the first touch, the sensitivity of my parts causing a burst of pleasure. Jasper looked very focused, his eyebrows in a frown, as he tried to take it nice a slow. Gradually, he slid all of the way into me, and I yelped at the feeling of it all, trying to adjust to him, wriggling around, everything so different sober. Jasper looked alarmed.

"Are you okay?" he asked nervously, stopping his actions.

I nodded again, quickly this time, and asked for more. "Don't stop. Please, Jasper, don't stop."

Jasper took a deep breath and began moving in and out of me. He was slow at first, taking his time and trying to get a rhythm. I had to resist the urge to buck my hips and make him go faster. My hands fisted the sheets on my sides as he plunged that little bit deeper, a little bit faster. Soon, I couldn't take it anymore.

My hands went to Jasper's face as he lay above me, slowly moving in and out of me. I made him look at me as he went, feeling lost in those blue eyes, needing more of him; all of him, like even this wasn't enough.

"Faster," I pleaded, pulling his lips to mine and whispering in his ear. "Please, Jasper. I need you."

I could barely believe what I was feeling; that gut-churning, animal instinct to have as much of him as I could. Jasper responded immediately, pumping in and out of me with long strokes, slowly getting faster. My back arched up towards him, needing him to go deeper, pulling him closer to me. I could feel my release building, but I wanted it to last; to stay like that forever.

Jasper's eyes were still locked on mine, his hand cupping my breast, his thumb brushing against my erect nipple. His rhythm slowed a little bit, long and steady as he delved all of the way into me. I could feel myself tightening around him, nearly reaching my peak. Jasper was the same.

"Oh God, I'm so close, Bella," he breathed, lost in the passion of it all.

"Come with me," I whispered, thrusting my hips into him and pulling his hot, sweaty body closer to mine.

Jasper moved faster then, our pace increasing ever-so-slightly. My back arched as I felt my climax coming. I couldn't help but cry as I rode out my orgasm, Jasper's rhythm pushing me over the edge. Jasper moaned as well, releasing his own, slowing his movements as we both came down to the point where he pulled out of me, exhausted and on top of the world.

Jasper lay down next to me, trying to catch his breath, as I slowly came down from my high. We must have laid there for ten minutes, just trying to calm ourselves. During that time, a sick feeling of guilt sparked in the pit of my stomach, causing me to crash.

I had just fucked my ex-boyfriend's brother. Sober.

It took a few minutes for us both to recover. Eventually, Jasper sat up to clean himself off. I turned on to my side, facing away from him, and covered my face with my hands. I knew I shouldn't have felt like that – at least not straight away – but I was coming to the realisation that I had just _fucked_ Jasper Whitlock, _sober_, and it had been one of the best experiences of my life.

I almost felt like crying. That was when Jasper spoke.

"Bella, are you okay?"

Jasper was lying in bed facing me, his face glowing and his eyes steamy and mystified. Just having him looking at me like that made me feel aroused. I took a deep breath and nodded, swallowing back the lump in my throat, as I went to sit up, clutching the covers to my chest.

"Yeah, great. And you?"

Jasper watched me inquisitively. I knew he saw that pained look on my face. I hadn't done a great job of hiding it. It was like a shadow of darkness was casted over his eyes.

"Good," he acknowledged, nodding. There was reserve in his eyes; something dark was forming. I knew there was something else he wanted to say. Hell, there was something else I wanted to say as well – _anything_, really. It just didn't feel like the right time. Talking to each other after, well, _that_ was a bit awkward.

I just nodded, not replying, nervous as hell and shrinking back into myself. I didn't feel like that confident girl I had just been, begging for more as he pushed into me.

Jasper didn't say a word. He just swung his legs over the bed, facing away from me, and reached into the bedside table by him. As he did, I noticed a tattoo of a cross on his back, in between his shoulder blades. I was amazed that I hadn't seen it before, and wondered what it was for.

"What's with the ink? I never knew you had a tattoo," I asked him.

"I never knew you were so perceptive," he replied sarcastically.

Well _that_ was uncalled for.

"I never knew you were such an asshole," I retorted.

Jasper laughed then, twirling something between his fingers. "Yes you did."

I sighed, feeling exasperated and awkward. "You don't have to be rude about it," I said. We always resorted to this; argue when the situation gets sticky.

Jasper ignored my comment and dropped the topic. "I actually need to ask you something," he said.

"What is it?" I nodded.

"It's about these rules that you have set," he explained, taking his time as he tried to figure out what to say next. "Am…uh…am I allowed to make one of my own?"

This intrigued me. I was keen to know what he was thinking of.

"What is your rule?" I pressed.

It seemed like a lifetime before Jasper answered, but the reality was all of a few seconds. My heart was pounding heavy in my chest. The answer just took me by surprise.

"I don't think this should be exclusive," he said suddenly. "It doesn't make sense…for the purpose of it…to be exclusive. I just think…it would be a good idea to clarify that fact, because we haven't yet. We are not exclusive in this."

I felt a foreign, thick, sickly, tugging feeling in my gut at the thought even though the proposal made perfect sense.

I nodded. "If you want that as a rule, you can have it as a rule," I answered wearily.

Jasper nodded. I thought he would have smiled, but he didn't look too exceedingly pleased. Then, to my surprise, he pulled out a cigarette, flipped the lighter and lit up. Hazy smoke filled the room. It was a thick, rich smell; something that I enjoyed, which was strange, because normally cigarette smoke smelt disgusting to me.

"I didn't know you smoke," I said.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Bella," he replied.

I knew that, so I had no reply. The silence in the room was killing me.

"I think I'd better go," I said eventually. "No small-talk, remember?"

"Yeah," Jasper agreed. "No small-talk."

At that I stood up from the bed, gathered my things, put my clothes back on, and left.

* * *

><p><strong>That was my first attempt at a lemon, so I hope it was okay. Thank you all for reading. Your reviews make my day, so thank you for all of your kind words.<strong>

**Beta'd by LithiumReaper. She's amazing, truly.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I apologise for the delay. Exams are in a few days, so I have to focus on them. But I hope that you have all been well and enjoy this little dose of angst :)**

**LithiumReaper is my fantastic beta. Thank you for all of the encouragement, lovely. She also made me some beautiful avatars. Thank you so much, sweet. I'm pretty sure you're the best beta on the planet.**

* * *

><p><strong>Bella:<strong>

I didn't go home straight away. I wasn't in the right headspace. The first thing I did was find the nearest bar and drown my sorrows with a whole lot of beer. The place was busy, and one guy did try to buy me a drink, but I rejected it kindly and continued to brood over everything that was happening. I was yet to figure out a sure fire excuse to explain what I was doing when I was faced with the reality of what they did to my father. It was hard work. Any involvement with that family was basically fucked up. But, eventually, after an hour of thinking, it came to me.

They were all different.

Jasper wasn't Carlisle, and he wasn't Edward. He wasn't like _any _of them. In fact, he was the one who rebelled against them and everything they believed in from the get go. In high school, I had never known much about Jasper. Edward liked to pick and choose what I was exposed to, and his step-brother was one of the things he chose to 'protect' me from. But I _did _know that Jasper was the outcast; the black sheep. I knew that he hated that family and everything they did. Knowing that, I could assume that he also hated what they did to me and my father, because it was typical-Cullen and completely the opposite of Jasper. He never hid his resentment of Carlisle or Edward, and from the little I saw of him when everything blew up, he _never_ seemed happy. He was different from them. I could cling to the possibility that he _hadn't _been involved; that he was different and good and better.

So that was what I clung to. He was different. He was never one of them. He despised them. So, he wasn't the one who hurt my father.

I relied on that thought like it was my saving grace.

I got home late. I opened the door quietly, expecting Ben and Angela to be fast asleep. They weren't. I walked into the living room to find them cuddled up on the sofa, covered in a blanket with a bowl of popcorn, watching a romantic movie. It was so sweet and loving that it made my stomach churn. Coming home from a no-strings-attached rendezvous to see them so in love and enjoying each other's company made me sick.

"Bella," Angela breathed, sitting up a little, adjusting the teetering popcorn bowl. "You're home."

"Sorry," I apologised quickly. "I thought you guys would be asleep. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You didn't disturb us!" Angela promised. "Come watch a movie with us. It's really sweet."

"Oh, no. Thanks though. I think I'm just going to go to bed. Long night," I excused.

Angela raised an eyebrow and glanced, amused, at Ben – like they had some kind of a secret that they weren't sharing.

"What is it?" I asked after a few moments of silent looks.

Angela glanced to Ben, who had that tattle-tale look on his face. The cheeky grin stayed glued as he ran a hand over his face and chuckled.

"Nothing. Honestly," he shrugged.

I didn't believe him for a second, and the suspense was killing me. "Just _tell me_," I sighed.

Ben glanced apprehensively at Angela. She shrugged. It was coming, I just knew it. "Well…it's just…you're kind of _glowing_, Bells. _And_ you smell like a brewery," Ben laughed.

I was confused. "I was at a bar…" I explained.

"Yeah, no, but you're _glowing_, Bells," he repeated. "Like…well, like you've just…_you know_."

"Had sex," Angela finished for him.

Ben sighed adoringly. Angela giggled. It was all very cute, and vomit-inducing.

"_So…_" Angela coaxed. "Did you?"

I didn't know what to say. I completely blanked at her.

"Did you meet him at the bar?" she pushed. "What was he like? How was it? You have to tell me _all_ about it."

My eyes widened because I knew I couldn't do that. Luckily Ben was there to come to the rescue.

"Ang, calm down. Lay off Bella," he laughed. "She doesn't have to say anything. It's _none of our business_."

Angela sighed happily. "You're right, you're right," she chimed. "Sorry, Bella."

"That's alright," I promised, trying to calm my racing heart. "And, if it's okay, I'm going to go to bed now…"

Angela shook her head clear. "Right. Yeah. Of course. Goodnight."

"Night," I replied before walking towards my room, pulling on a pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt, and climbing into bed. Sleep didn't come easily that night.

:::

I was woken up on Saturday morning by my cell phone ringing. Groggily, I reached to the bedside table and brought it to my ear, still trying to adjust to being awake.

"Hello?"

"Bella. Oh, I'm sorry, honey; I didn't mean to wake you."

My mother's voice was alive and chirpy. I looked to the clock to find that it was only seven in the morning, and silently cursed her latest meditation-obsession that had her waking up at the crack of dawn.

"It's fine," I grumbled, sitting up in bed and rubbing crusted sleep from my eyes. "I was awake already."

My mother hummed, knowing that I was telling fibs, and dropped the subject. "How have you been, honey?"

How had I been? That was the most complicated question she could have asked.

"Good," I lied.

She didn't see through the fib that time. "Well, I'm glad that you're happy," she acknowledged.

"Thanks, mom," I replied. "But…uh…what did you call for?"

Mom chuckled nervously. I had a feeling about what was coming before she said it.

"Well…it's just…as you know…it's…it's the anniversary of your father's – of Charlie's…" She couldn't bring herself to say the words, even after all this time, and even though the two of them had been divorced ever since I was in_ nappies_. I always hated the way people beat around the bush with the topic. No one was ever straight forward with it. They always referred to him as _passed on_ or _lost_ or _at peace_. They never said the one word that went straight to the point. No one ever wanted to say the truth, because the truth hurt, and it sounded as cold and lifeless and unforgiving as anything.

_Dead_.

Charlie is _dead_, had been dead for quite a while, and my mother couldn't even bring herself to say it.

"I know, mom," I said, stopping her floundering. She always sounded offended when I said the word for her, so I avoided it now wherever possible.

"It's just over two weeks away," she continued. I didn't need to reply. She knew that I was listening. "So I wanted to ask you if you had any plans…? I would like to make a trip up to Forks to visit his…"

That was another word that she could never say: _grave_. No one seemed to grasp to concept that Charlie was _dead_ and had a _grave_, and whenever I said it they looked at me like I was about to have some sort of a mental breakdown. When I reminded them that it was the plain truth, they told me that bottling up your feelings is not a healthy thing and that maybe I needed to talk to someone. They told me I wasn't feeling enough, and that it was okay to cry. And it was all complete and utter bullshit. Since when does acknowledging that your father is dead and in a grave mean that you are hiding from things and not really _feeling _anything? Would they rather me try to convince myself that he was still alive, and that it was all just a big practical joke? It was idiotic.

"I don't have any plans," I answered, trying to save her the trouble of saying the word. I knew what the occasion was, and I had been preparing myself for it since the last one. It was the third anniversary of his death, and it hung over me like a thick black cloud _every single day_.

"Great," she answered, although her tone wasn't cherry. "That sounds…great. Maybe we can make a long weekend out of it…" Her voice trailed off. Our conversations never used to be this strained. Years ago, they used to flow like water; light and easy and transparent and pleasant. But all that changed, because everything has to change at some point. My mother had lost some of the spark that kept her alive. So had I. And sometimes, it felt like I was just losing her.

"Sure, mom, that sounds like a good idea. But…uh…is it okay if we talk about it later on? I have to get ready for work."

That was a lie, too, but I couldn't stand any more of our awkward conversation and the faked pleasantries surrounding something as morbid as Charlie's death. Mom seemed happy for the break.

"Of course. Good idea. Have a great day, honey."

"Yeah, you too."

As soon as I had hung up the phone I curled back under the covers and tried to let sleep take me. It wouldn't, but the darkness could. I don't know if you've ever felt like that – like you wanted to sleep for a thousand years, or not exist, or at least become numb to the fact that you do exist. It's something that's very morbid to think about, but I do think about it…when things get like this – when _everything _just starts boiling up again around this time of year. It always happens. It always gets bad again. It never feels like it's going to get better, and it doesn't. Not really.

And I always get through it. Somehow.

Angela was home when I finally pulled myself out of bed. Ben wasn't. I walked straight to the fridge to pour a glass of milk. Angela saw that something was wrong immediately.

"Bella," she called, leaning against the bench with a coffee mug in her hand.

I turned around with the milk carton in my hand, my vision blurred and my head feeling heavy. I just wanted to have a shower and head back to my room, but I knew that Angela wasn't going to have any of it.

"Bella, what's wrong?" she pressed after I didn't answer.

I averted my eyes and shrugged. "Nothing's wrong. I swear."

Angela wasn't taking a bite of it. "You look exhausted, like you're not sleeping."

"I'm sleeping fine," I swore.

Angela sighed and set her mug on the bench. "No you're not. I can hear you up at night. And I know what time of year it is."

I didn't want to speak, and so I put the milk carton back into the fridge and walked out towards the living room. Angela was quick to follow.

"You can't just ignore it, Bella. I'm worried about you. Please talk to me."

I wanted to walk straight back into my room and lock the door, but guilt ate at me too much. Angela was only concerned with my wellbeing, and I couldn't throw my angst shit at her.

I turned around and faced her, shrugging my shoulders. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"I want you to tell me the truth," she answered. "You haven't been yourself lately. You fucked Jasper Whitlock, of all people, on New Year's. All week you've been acting different, like you're not really there. Last night you came in smelling like a brewery, and this morning you look like death warmed up to you. Not to mention it's the time of year where you are probably at your worst. I just want you to talk to me. I'm worried about you."

_Time of year_. _Time of year_. Why did everyone have to dance around the subject? Why couldn't she just say that it was the anniversary of his death? Why was the truth such a hard thing to admit?

"I would be lying if I said I'm not thrown off because it's the anniversary of Charlie's death, but Jasper has nothing to do with it. I'm just…I'm just a bit distracted, you know?"

Distracted. Yeah, I was distracted, and Jasper had everything to do with it. I couldn't shake his taste, his touch, his smell or the way he made me feel from my skin. He made me act in a way that I never had before.

Angela nodded in understanding. "Do you have any plans for the day yet? I can take the time off work and spend it with you. We can go visit him. It might be good for you."

I shook my head. "Thanks, but no, it's okay. I talked to my mom this morning. We are going to spend a long weekend up in Forks."

There was a slight movement in Angela's expression. Anyone who didn't know us well would have thought nothing of it, but I knew Angela very well, and that slight flinch spoke a thousand words.

Angela didn't voice her disagreement, and I waited expectantly for it. Eventually, I told her to spit it out.

"What is it?" I asked grumpily.

Angela was hesitant about coming clean. I didn't break eye contact with her, and eventually she spoke.

"Well…it's just…is that really a good idea? I mean, Forks doesn't exactly hold great memories for you, and every time you go back there it's like you are warped back in time, and you have to start rebuilding yourself from ground zero again. I mean, I understand going back for a _day_, but for an entire _weekend_? I just…I worry about what it might do to you. You should be moving on and getting out of Forks, not going back there whenever the chance arises."

But I was set in my decision. There was no way I wasn't going, and there was no way that I was just going to forget Forks, ever. I loved that place, but I hated to love it and loved to hate it at the same time. It was like I was permanently tethered to it – something in my gut that held me to it and stopped me straying too far, like a puppy on an extending-leash; I could stray a little bit, but I could never go too far before I was tugged back, and I could never go for too long before someone or something reeled me back in.

"It's the anniversary of my father's death, Angela. Whether or not I go back is not up for discussion," I said sternly. "I'm going."

Angela looked away again, and that suspicious flinch came back. I waited for her reply. She took a long time to muster the courage to say what she wanted to, looking away to the windows, her eyes glistening, before looking questioningly back to me. Eventually, she spoke, and I felt my heart miss a beat.

"He's going to be there," she said, and I had a sick feeling of exactly who _he_ was. So sick, in fact, that I couldn't reply. Angela continued in the face of my silence. "I was talking to Ben last night, who has been in contact with Tyler." Immediately, I knew where this was going. Tyler had been one of _his_ closest friends in high school, and as far as I knew they had gone to college together. "Tyler told Ben that he's coming home that weekend – that…that _Edward_ is coming back to Forks."

I didn't reply. I didn't make a sound. I most certainly didn't make a movement. I didn't really know _what_ to do. I felt numb to it all, like I hadn't really been able to fathom what she had just said. It was like there was a wall built up inside me that stopped any mention of Edward getting to my heart and wrenching it clear out of my chest. I didn't want to scratch at the wall, either. It was easier when I didn't feel anything. I was good at that – blocking out my feelings about him when I needed to. Of course, sometimes they came, but most of the time I kept the wall up, strong and thick, not scratching at it or testing it at all for fear of crumbling.

"Regardless," I shrugged, "it doesn't matter if he's going to be there. I have no intention to go and see him. The weekend is about Charlie, and _nothing_ will interfere with that."

Angela was still adamant about disagreeing with me. It was to the point where I was suspicious as to whether she knew more than she was letting on.

"It's just…Bella…I don't think it's a very good idea. Truly. I mean, what happens if you run into him in the grocery store –"

"I won't go to the grocery store."

"– or on the streets –"

"I won't go walking."

"– or when you're driving your car –"

"I'll let my mom drive and close my eyes."

"– or just…just _anywhere_!"

"I will confine myself to the motel room and only leave to go to the cemetery."

Angela looked exasperated. I wasn't shaken at all. She sighed as she looked at me, still trying to beg me to stay. I couldn't. I was set in my ways.

"Bella, it's not going to be easy," she said then. "Even if you don't see _him_...you might see…you could see anything…and then…"

Her voice trailed off. I knew what she was talking about. There were ghosts around town which could be very successful in opening up old wounds, and she was worried about that. I wasn't.

"Angela, I fucked his step brother a week ago and that hasn't fazed me. What other tests do you_ possibly_ want to perform?"

Angela looked at me cautiously, doubt coating her features. I hated when she looked at me like that. It reminded me that she knew a whole lot more than we both liked to talk about.

"I think it has fazed you more than you're letting on," she said quietly. "And going back to Forks is not going to help. You're meant to be moving on from the past, not returning to it once the remnants of it are _just_ starting to leave your skin."

The remnants of the past coated my skin after the night before, and I never wanted to shake them off. Jasper bathed me in them, and I knew that I wasn't going to let that go. There was something addictive about it – about reliving the ghosts of the pasts but just discovering him. Going back to Forks was going to be a pinprick in time when compared to that.

"This discussion is over," I said then, running a hand through my hair. "I'm _going_ back to Forks with my mother and we are _going_ to see my father. There is something worse than seeing Edward again, and that's living my life in fear and neglecting the things that are important to me because I _might_ see him again. I'm not going to do that. I'm going back to Forks."

I held onto that excuse as I walked back in to my room, turning away from Angela's silence. She just wanted me to let go and move on, and I had. I just wanted to remember my father, and I couldn't see the crime in that.

:::

**Jasper:**

As soon as I woke up on Saturday morning I was itching to play. All day I could feel my fingers dancing over the invisible strings, like they had a life of their own, plucking out chords that I had never paired before. My muse was back, but after my chat with Charlotte the week before, I refused to let it out.

But as the day went on it got under my skin, itching. I couldn't concentrate on anything else. I couldn't even sleep on Saturday night, tossing and turning in my bed all night, my head spinning over Bella.

It didn't make sense at all. She smelt like artificial strawberry soap when she arrived, and I had a feral need to sweat it out of her and lick the salt from her skin. One minute she was all in and begging for more with a lightning spark in her eye that I would never dream of dulling, and the next she was chewing her lip and blushing and being that scared girl I had seen her be in high school. Afterwards, she had tears in her eyes, and it wasn't hard to figure out who she was thinking about.

I couldn't really expect anything else, but that didn't mean that it didn't piss me off. I wanted to wipe him from her memory and make her mine, not stir something dark inside her that brought him back to life. But that was the reality of what we were doing. I knew that she would always think of him when she was with me, and she knew that I knew that her mind would always be somewhere else. There was a dull sort of mutual acceptance in it all. Still, it pissed me off, because it seemed like no matter where I went or what I did, Edward would always trump me.

So, I wanted to get out of there, and acted like an asshole because I could. And she snipped back, hit for hit, and I needed a cigarette to calm my nerves and set down my rule. After seeing her almost in tears, I knew we needed it more than ever. Complicating the whole deal more by being exclusive was just idiotic.

So we argued with each other and turned sour so that we could deal with it all; her, thinking about Edward, and me, knowing that she was. Then she left, and I felt like I had just been thrown through a loop. I had seen her spark when she was herself and her darkness when she thought of him. I couldn't figure out which to believe. Then, on Saturday night, I couldn't sleep because something had sparked inside me.

I couldn't help but climb out of bed and pick up the guitar. There was something so natural about how the music came out of me. I can never describe how it feels to be able to make something like that. To me, it didn't matter what my music was; the only thing that mattered was that I could actually _make it_ again. Warmth flooded my veins as I listened to the twanging chords. It seemed like it had been so long since I had been able to play like this. I had thought that the time before had only been a onetime thing, but it was looking like it wasn't, and the words came easier than they ever had before.

_She's an angel with a lion's mane,  
>Heart of stone and flesh, insane.<br>When you hate to want and want to hate,  
>Something in between us quakes.<br>Can't get enough, can't break this touch,  
>Can't get out of the room quick enough.<br>Her eyes are sparks  
>that light me up<br>and make me crave more of her touch.  
>But then darkness shakes her like a rock<br>and takes away the lightning shock.  
>She flies away<br>then crashes back;  
>Fractured wings which cannot take<br>another bout of this incessant shake.  
>An angel with a lion's mane;<br>She's lost her wings  
>and cannot fly again.<em>

The words came like a river again, and the chords came even quicker, soft and breezy and floating in on the wind, bluesy and rough but unable to fit _just _right. I plucked at strings for hours on end, right into the late morning, and was happy to not be disturbed by anyone; only having the music flow.

After all of that, I couldn't help what I did on Sunday afternoon. It was like something else inside me took over all of my actions. I couldn't stop it. I was aware of everything, but I still didn't feel like I was controlling my own limbs as I walked down to the coffee shop that Bella worked in. I wanted more of whatever it was that she stirred in me. I wanted more music, so I had to see her.

Coming in from the rain was pleasant. The little shop was warm and smelt like freshly ground coffee and the rain. The counters and tables were made of aging oak, with rims embedded in the surface from the numerous sweaty cups that has been seated there, each telling its own story. Each seat had its own unique patterned covering, like someone had raided the odds and ends box at a thrift store. There were only a few people inside; one elderly man reading the newspaper and one man, about thirty, sitting behind a battered laptop, typing away.

I walked up to the counter slowly. Bella was standing behind it, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, her mahogany curls falling over her shoulders as she leant against the counter with a worn copy of Wuthering Heights in her hand. Her cheeks were tinged with pink by the warmth of the little shop and she was chewing lightly on her bottom lip as her wide eyes skimmed over the pages. This was a Bella that I liked to see. This was Bella when she wasn't dwelling on the past or hiding herself behind a smile. This was the Bella that she never showed, ever, as if it was the one that made her vulnerable. She had never been like that in high school – I had only ever seen a glimmer of it once or twice.

I tried to walk quietly, not wanting to disturb her, but I was unsuccessful. I was a few feet away when she jumped, dropping the book onto the counter. The spine was so broken that it fell flat, collapsing in on itself, loved to the brink and worn down because of it. Her wide eyes saw me and she looked shaken.

"Jasper," she breathed. She looked around quickly, nervous for something, as though checking if anyone else was looking at us, before speaking again, "What are you doing here?"

I smiled at her, trying to settle her nerves, and I could feel my fingers itching again. "Coffee," I answered. "It's cold out."

Bella didn't look happy with my arrival, but managed a nod. "What do you want?"

"Black," I answered quickly, handing her the money.

Bella took the cash and shoved it into the till. "Have here or takeaway?"

"Have here," I answered. Bella's eyes widened at my answer and she looked at me with surprise. I shrugged. Bella still looked apprehensive, but said nothing and moved to the coffee machine. She ground the coffee and made my drink with precision and speed. Looking over the steaming machine, she raised an eyebrow.

"You don't have to stand there. I can bring it to you," she said.

No. No fucking way. She wasn't going to wait on me like that.

"I don't mind," I shrugged.

Bella raised an eyebrow but didn't question me further. A few minutes later she finished my drink and slid it across the counter.

"Enjoy," she chimed with a flick of a smile and a twinkle of her eye.

"Thanks," I said quickly, pulling the cup towards me. I could feel the heat soaking deep into my fingers. Bella nodded and went to clean up the machine. I still hadn't moved, feeling like I needed to say something to her but unsure of what that was.

Bella noticed my hesitation as she wiped the machine down with a wet rag. "What is it?" she asked, not meeting my eyes.

"We should meet up again," I answered, my mouth taking over my mind as I let the verbal vomit run.

Bella didn't look at me as she continued to wipe down the machine. "You should go and drink your coffee," she dismissed.

"Turned off me already, have you?"

Bella still wouldn't look at me. "Go away, Jasper."

"Right, I forgot; no small-talk and no contact outside of sex, right?"

Bella winced at the word. "Don't say that so loud," she growled.

I wanted to punch the wall and yell at the world. "Oh come on. No one cares. Unless Pretty Boy or any of the other members of the Candy-Brigade walk through the door, there's nothing to worry about. No one gives a shit."

"_Don't_, Jasper," Bella cautioned, tears swelling in her eyes. That sent me over the edge. I couldn't even mention them without bringing her close to tears. It pissed me off. No matter where I went or what I did, I could never shake them. They were always one step ahead of me – always that little bit better.

"Don't what?" I pressed. I knew I should have pulled it in and controlled myself. I knew I should have let it go. I didn't know what I was expecting her to do. We had known each other in the past, she had been in love with Edward, and he had broken her heart and shattered her spirit and destroyed her family. And I…I had never been exactly _welcoming_ to her during their entire relationship. What did I expect – her to just forget about him and what they did and treat me like I was just a normal guy she was fucking and _not_ be embarrassed and secretive of it? No, that was just stupid.

But still, the resentment I held for my family and my want to differentiate myself from them took over, and it was making this whole thing with Bella much more complicated and mind-fucking than it needed to be. I didn't even know what I was feeling in that moment.

Bella wouldn't answer. The look she gave me said it all. Deep inside me, somewhere in the pit of my gut, I knew what it all meant – I just didn't want to admit it to myself. Instead I ignored it and thought it would all just go away. So, I admitted defeat.

"It was a mistake to come here," I sighed.

Bella didn't say a word, but the way she looked at me made me want to scream at the world and blow something up.

Pity. Pity and sympathy. That's what she was feeling for me, like I was some sort of child who needed to be cuddled and assured that everything was going to be okay and that they were actually worth something.

It was the last thing I needed. Especially from her.

I turned to walk away then, leaving the steaming coffee on the counter, feeling like a thick ball was shoved down my throat. She didn't say a word as I left, and as soon as I was out in the cold Seattle streets I swallowed back everything that had just happened and held my head up high. Fuck that angst bullshit. Fuck the music. I didn't need to feel anything. I was _just_ fucking her. She was meant to be a pinprick in my life, not the whole damn main course.

To punctuate it, I walked down the street and straight into the nearest bar. I was free to do whatever I liked, and I was about to let go of everything and throw sense to the wind. Fuck the music. Fuck everything. There were few things in my life that were constant, and one of them was alcohol. When the music failed the bottle sang, and that was exactly what I wanted to drown myself in.

:::

I was in the bar and downing vodka shots like they were water; three…four…five…six…soon I was up to fifteen and stumbling around with a buzzing head, completely unable to think about anything but the shimmering lights, the hazy smoke filling the room and the classic rock playing in the background. It was the way I liked it. Half of my teenage years had passed just like this, although back then I had been in my bedroom, smoking a joint and plucking away at my old six strings with a bottle of Carlisle's finest in my hand, stolen from his padlocked liquor cabinet. It was rather pleasant being in this state; no worries, nobody there to bring me down, no boundaries. The aftermath wasn't, of course, but I could worry about that later.

I was grateful that the bar was virtually empty so that I could drown whatever it was that I was feeling alone and in peace. The old bar was comforting, and the smell of tobacco and the heat settled my bones. But soon the bartender cut me off and offered to call me a cab. I told him I would walk. I needed to spend some time in the chilling rain to ground myself. He checked my pockets to make sure I didn't have a hidden set of car keys before I left.

It was so…_responsible_.

My walk home wasn't exactly graceful; although, I couldn't really imagine a time where a drunken walk home on an early Sunday evening _could_ be classed as graceful, in any sense of the word. It felt good to be out in the rain. My hair was drenched, my clothes were drenched, and the chilly droplets streaming down my skin were sobering, at least a little bit.

I tried to stay quiet as I opened the door of our apartment, but I lost my footing and ended up slamming the door back against the wall. I shut my eyes and hoped that no one was home, but no such luck, because the next thing I knew Peter came out of his bedroom, shirtless, scowling at me.

"Jasper. What the fuck was that? Where the hell have you been?"

I held my hands up in surrender. Peter almost growled at me. I tried to keep the peace because I was drunk as fuck and goofy as hell. It didn't work. Any other time, it would have been funny...

"Sorry, sorry. I just…tripped."

Peter didn't believe me for a second. "Tripped my ass. You reek of booze, Whitlock. Where the hell have you been?"

Okay. _New plan_. Flip the shit on him.

"What's it to you, anyway? What are you: my mother?"

Peter didn't take that too well. "No, I'm the one who has been taking Garrett's calls all afternoon. You were meant to be working, but instead you go and get shitfaced. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Fuck. I forgot. We were meant to be finishing the last few hours of the latest painting job that afternoon. Dammit.

"What's it to _you_, anyway?" I tested. Peter didn't deserve my attitude, but the alcohol didn't know that, and it fucked with my head.

"What's it to me?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Fuck, Jasper, I don't know. Maybe it's the fact that you're skipping on work to get drunk on a _Sunday afternoon_, or acting like a complete asshole and not seeing anything wrong with it."

"Jeez. _Chill_, Peter. It's not a big deal," I claimed.

"Not a big deal? Dude, I'm not going to stand by and just let you revert to the fucked up way you're used to living; staying in a place for a while, getting on well, getting a job, and then having something snap and make you fuck shit up and then leave again. It's not going to happen here. Charlotte and I actually care about you too much to let you throw everything away once something gets a little too hard."

Talking to him then about _anything_ was just too much. Talking to him then when he was blowing things out of proportion was just silly. I just wanted to go into my room and sleep it off. Too bad I was ridden with guilt for letting Garrett down and still reeling over everything with Bella. Plus, Peter probably wouldn't let me be until he got through to me, which I didn't really want to happen.

"Oh God, shut up," I sighed, feeling like my head was about to explode. I couldn't take anything he said seriously. Not when I was feeling like that. "You're making this a way bigger deal than it needs to be."

Peter didn't think so. "No, Jasper, I'm not, and you're going to have to deal with this shit. I don't care _what_ it is that made you go to the bar. You're going to _stop it_ before it goes too far, get your head on straight, and get back to work. If you keep running away from everything shit in your life it's never going to change."

"I'm not running away from anything," I told him. "It was _just a drink_, and okay, I took it a bit far and had a bit too much, but it's not what you think."

"Bullshit," Peter called my bluff. "I know you well enough to know that something has triggered you again."

In the back of my mind I knew that it had been a bad idea to move in with Peter and Charlotte. Unlike wherever else I went or whoever else I met, they actually _gave a shit_ about what I did, and knew me well enough to pick out the tell-tale signs.

"Nothing is going wrong," I told him. "It's just a _onetime_ thing. I just forgot, okay? I've had a lot on my mind."

Peter shook his head, and I really wished that he would just drop it. "No. It's never just a _onetime thing_ with you, Jasper. It's never that simple. And I'm _not_ going to let you leave again."

"Who the hell said I'm going to leave? I just needed to get my mind off of things for a second. Jeez, it's like you've gone from being my friend to being my shrink."

Peter wasn't having a bar of it. "You know, sometimes I think you _do_ need a shrink."

"Shut up," I mumbled under my breath, running my hand over my face in aggravation.

"And Jasper, right now I'm going to be more of a friend than I have been to you lately, and say that you have to get your fucking act together. I don't give a shit if this is a onetime thing or the beginning of a downward spiral. Whatever it is, it's got to _stop_."

I _really_ just didn't want to talk to him. "It's just a drink, Peter. Christ. Just _drop it_."

"Just a drink. _Just a drink_. Christ, Jasper, it's never _just_ a drink. That's what my father used to say, too, until he lost everything good in his life. So _stop mucking around_. You don't need to eat shit your whole life because you had a fucked up childhood, and you don't need to use alcohol or any other substance to deal with shit when you think life gets too hard. _I'm not going to let you_."

And he wasn't going to drop the subject.

"I get it," I told him, just wanting to get out of there. I was freezing cold, my head was pounding, I was pissed off about everything that was happening and I knew that I needed to call Garrett eventually and talk to him. Plus, the mention of Peter's father stopped me in my tracks, and through everything, I knew that Peter was just doing what he thought was right. "Alright? I get it. Fine. I hear you. I'm sorry."

Peter was still standing his ground. He had always been like this; blunt, to the point of being obtrusive, but always good-intentioned. He was a joyous, friendly guy, but wasn't afraid of confrontation when you fucked up or got on the wrong side of him. In a way, it was good for me; he kept me in-line whilst still being my best friend. But still, it didn't stop his confrontations from being annoying as fuck.

Peter looked at me suspiciously, as if sizing me up and trying to figure out if what I was saying was true. Clearly, he didn't believe me, but he took pity on me anyway and nodded. The argument was over, although I didn't know how long for.

"Good," he agreed.

"Good," I repeated too before heading into the bathroom to take a shower.

* * *

><p><strong>Proudly beta'd by the amazing LithiumReaper<strong>

**Thank you all for being so wonderfully supportive. I would love to hear your thoughts, so do leave them in a review, and I'll be sure to get back to you :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: All identifiable property belongs to their respective copyright owners.**

**I'm sorry this took a while to get out. Exams stifled my writing abilities for a while. Still, thank you to all of you wonderful readers and reviewers. You brighten my day.**

**LithiumReaper deserves all of the praise in the world for this one. She's the most amazing beta **_**ever**_**. Love her, so much.**

* * *

><p><strong>Jasper:<strong>

Garrett wasn't very happy with me on Monday. Luckily he had managed to finish the job, and the beige-loving lady didn't notice my absence. But it still didn't change the fact that I had let him down. Peter wasn't exactly a fan of mine, either. On Monday morning he was watching me like a hawk, and had clearly spoken to Charlotte. Her unnatural silence unsettled me. I couldn't even stomach eating or drinking anything.

When Garrett picked me up in the truck I could feel his annoyance. As soon as he pulled off the curb I went to apologise to him.

"Listen, Garrett, I'm sorry about yesterday. I was just –"

Garrett held his hand to stop me. "Dude, don't worry about it. It was only one day. Happens to everyone."

I tried again. "No, but dude, I didn't mean –"

"_Jasper_," he interrupted. "Dude. It's _fine_. No harm, no foul, okay? You just forgot. It's _not a big deal_."

I shut up then. Garrett raised an eyebrow at my silence. I realised then that Peter hadn't told him anything. Garrett thought that my absence had been nothing but a hit of innocent forgetfulness. Part of me wanted to reveal the truth, but the other half was grateful for the relief and learnt to shut its trap.

The latter half won.

"Okay," I nodded. Garrett grinned and turned to face the road, as if everything was perfectly normal again. For him it was.

We were heading out to a new job, painting a newly built art gallery in the middle of the city. They wanted white walls; stale, blinding white. Everyone wanted some form of white wall. It was the simplest colour of them all. Anything could go with it. Nothing clashed with it. It was accommodating and perfect and clean. Just like what everyone wanted to be. If I was painting my own house, I wouldn't paint it white. I'd paint it every other colour on the fucking rainbow. But not white. The Cullen's house was white; an artful stack of white painted wood and glass. If you hit it in just the right place it could shatter.

I hated white.

We arrived at the art gallery half an hour later. Garrett went in to talk to the manager whilst I started lugging in cover sheets and rollers and paint cans. The gallery was a small place, with only two rooms to do, so it would only take the week, if that. I got to work quickly. I needed to loose myself in the steady roll of the roller and slosh of paint on the wood. The thought that you could just cover over something disliked was interesting to me. The idea translated to human nature quite well. We all had things we wished we could just paint over. I wished I could just paint right over my entire past. Carlisle wished he could just paint over me. Esme – _my mother, I mean_ – wished that she could just paint over everything that happened in Texas, before we moved to Forks – including my father. Edward wished that he could paint over every little thing he did that showed that he wasn't the perfect son that everyone thought he was. He also wished that he could just paint over me entirely. But I digress.

When Garrett came back over we worked in silence. The only sound was an old radio buzzing in the background. It was late in the afternoon when he finally broke the silence and instigated a conversation.

His voice was eerily illusive as he spoke. "So, Jasper, how has it been – you know, _life_?"

Broad topic. No doubt he was going to narrow it down to what he wanted to know. I'd play possum till then. "Well, I'm still breathing, and my heart's still beating."

Garrett forced out a short laugh. "I'd be worried if it had stopped."

I forced out the same laugh and didn't reply. I waited silently for Garrett to press closer to what he wanted. Surely enough, he soon did.

"So, is there anything new happening with you? You know – anything _interesting_?"

I smirked, still wanting to tease him more. "Nope. Just the usual."

Garrett nodded obligingly. It took a few seconds and a good three strokes of the roller before he tried again. "What about that girl though, huh? Did you lay down the law or are you still dancing around the subject?"

Huh. "Why do you care?"

Garrett shrugged. "I'm your friend. Aren't friends supposed to ask about these things?"

I couldn't help but laugh at his guess. "I wouldn't know."

"Well then let's just pretend that they are," Garrett replied.

"Whatever you say, boss."

Garrett turned around to look at me. "Come on then – spill."

"You sound like a teenage girl," I chuckled.

Garrett almost growled at me. "Dude, I'm not asking to braid your hair and talk about your feelings. I'm just checking up on you."

I wanted to move on from the topic as quickly as possible. "Yeah, yeah, okay. It's set. Chill."

Garrett nodded. This sparked my interest.

"Why do you care, anyway?" I pressed.

Garrett shrugged nonchalantly. "You seemed pretty messed up about it. I was worried about you."

This was just way too weird. "Dude, you don't need to worry about me. I'm fine."

Garrett let out a strained laugh. I knew there was something else there. "Yeah, I know mate. I'm sorry. You just seemed pretty caught up on it all. I just wanted to check that it was all okay."

It wasn't exactly _okay_, but I wasn't going to tell him that. "It is. Everything's good. Settled. I swear."

Garrett nodded. "Awesome. So, how does a beer sound after work? I fucking hate Mondays."

Garrett was happy to be off the hook and I was happy to be out of the spotlight. Smiling, I agreed to the beer, but my head was somewhere else. If Garrett had picked up that Bella was throwing me through a loop, _who else had?_ And what the hell could _Bella_ think of me? Did she pick up on anything?

My head was spinning with the possibilities for the rest of the day.

:::

The bar wasn't a good idea. It had been, for the first fifteen minutes, before a busty blonde and her red-headed friend approached Garrett and I and offered to buy us the second round. Garrett accepted and nudged me in the ribs. The blonde came and sat next to me and talked about the weather and work. I was bored out of my brain. Everyone knew that the weather was crap and work was shit. When I gave her a bit of cheek she looked at me all funny. I craved for her to hit me back, tit for tat, but she didn't. When her hand started creeping up my knee, acrylic nails scratching at me, her powdered face smiling suggestively, I jumped up from my chair. She was good-looking, but made my skin crawl. Every time I looked at her I thought of Bella, and she didn't compare to Bella's heat and fire. She was traditionally pretty, but Bella was beautiful.

I left before I could think about it anymore, my stomach churning because of the confusion of it all.

I got home at a little after seven and went straight to my room. Charlotte was busy cooking dinner whilst talking to Peter. Both greeted me when I arrived, but I didn't stay around to chat. There was still tension in the air after my argument with Peter, and I wasn't going to go and stir the pot up again by saying the wrong thing.

As soon as I was back in my room I picked up my acoustic and started plucking at strings, needing to vent through something. Still, nothing worked and nothing flowed. Everything I played felt disjointed and lost. I couldn't even fathom the idea of writing anything, and it all pissed me off. I felt like my whole body was blocked. My fingers were clicking mechanically. My brain couldn't even function properly, and I felt like the dislocation of my body was extending to a dislocation in my music. Nothing fit right.

It could have been hours before Charlotte came in tentatively. I hadn't been paying attention to the time, and if she hadn't of come in I probably could have wasted hours, going well into the early morning, trying to force out something that sounded at least a little good.

Her trepidation was unnerving. "Jasper? Are you okay?"

_Okay?_ Most complicated question on the fucking planet. But I wasn't going to tell her that.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

I twanged a sharp cord and Charlotte winced.

"You don't sound fine," she challenged cautiously.

I didn't look up at her. I couldn't ignore the bubbling anger I could feel in the tips of my fingers that had me furiously strumming to try and get some sort of good sound.

"It's the guitar that isn't fine. I am."

Charlotte gave me a doubtful look and walked over to sit next to me on the bed. My grip tightened instinctively on the guitar in my arms. I most certainly didn't want to face whatever was coming.

"The guitar is practically an extension of you. If you're off, it's off. I know that. You know that. So let's just cut the shit."

Still, I didn't want to talk. "Can we just not do this whole epic heart-to-heart thing, please? Let's just save ourselves the trouble and pretend that it happened and move on."

Charlotte raised an eyebrow at me, telling me that that wasn't going to happen. I felt like punching the wall.

"No chance," she popped. "There's something up, and I want to know what."

I was in a bad mood and wasn't going to make anything easy for her. "No doubt Peter told you everything. There's no point."

Charlotte was annoyed at me. It came through in her tone. "The only thing Peter told me was that you two had a fight. He won't tell me what it's about."

I was defiant. "Neither will I."

Charlotte scoffed at my reluctance. "You know, even though you two butt heads all the time, you're more alike than you think."

Peter was my best friend, but at that moment I despised the thought of him. "We're nothing alike."

Charlotte laughed. I had just punctuated her point even more, apparently. "See? It's right there. You're both the most stubborn, hard-headed creatures on the planet. Neither of you will give an inch when you think you're right."

The thought that I was anything like Peter, at that moment, pissed me off and had me talking in an instant. It was childish and illogical, but it happened anyway.

"I missed work on Sunday and got shitfaced. Garrett was calling and Peter answered. He got pissed and told me to get my act together before I fuck up again. I told him it wasn't a big deal and I just forgot. He said it was. That's it."

Charlotte raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "That's it? Don't lie to me, Jasper. If that was it, you wouldn't be brooding over your guitar for hours, and you would have eaten dinner. Something else has got to be on your mind."

"Nothing else is on my mind," I told her, but it sounded weak.

"Tell me the truth," Charlotte scolded.

Looking at her, I knew that she wouldn't let it go, so I went for the half answer and avoided the truth.

"I have to go up to Forks next weekend. Emmett's coming home."

Charlotte understood immediately. "Are you there for the entire weekend?"

"Sure am."

"Did Rosalie say if the twins are going to be there?"

"Alice is coming home from New York for the weekend. Edward should be back from Aussie any day now."

"Damn."

"My point exactly."

Charlotte completely understood the difficulty I had with my family. I wasn't planning on telling her anything about Bella. The story about the weekend was bad enough.

Charlotte didn't know how to comfort me. We both knew that the reality was that I just had to deal with it. "Do you need any company? Peter and I could make the trip up with you. At least you'd have someone to vent to when you get back to the motel from a hard day."

"A couple shots of whisky should do me fine, but thanks," I excused. That had Charlotte worried, and suddenly I realised my mistake.

"Alcohol? Really, Jasper? Do you really want to go down that road?"

I _so_ didn't want to have this argument again. "There's no road, Charlotte. I swear. Peter and I have already discussed this."

Charlotte nodded, suddenly nervous, and averted her eyes to her hands in her lap. "Yeah, I know…It's just…I just don't want you to leave again. You seem to be finally making some headway and settling here. We don't want to lose you."

I couldn't be bothered arguing. My drive was dying and I just wanted out of this conversation. So, I told her what she wanted to hear in the hope that it would finally get them off my case. I hated being treated like some unruly child. I knew that I wasn't perfect, but I also wasn't a complete fuck up.

"You're not going to lose me. I've learnt my lesson. I'm not leaving any time soon."

A smile appeared on her face that made me feel bad, because in truth I didn't know for sure _what_ I was going to do. Bella was on my mind, and I was good at running away from the tough issues. Rosalie could vouch for that in a heartbeat.

"Good," Charlotte said, and something cold swelled in the pit of my stomach. "And…I have something else to ask you."

_Oh shit_.

"What?"

Charlotte looked up at me, keeping eye contact as she asked, "What happened with that girl?"

She looked at me expectantly. My heart jumped into my throat.

"Nothing," I claimed. Charlotte raised an eyebrow. I nodded. "Nothing. I think it was just a one-night thing. You know. It happens."

Charlotte nodded and attempted to console me, as if I was some heartbroken soul going through a tough breakup. "There's still hope, you know. It could happen again."

"Charlotte, I'm not heartbroken over it," I laughed. "I didn't expect anything from it. It's not an issue."

Charlotte nodded, but clearly had something else on her mind. It took her a while to spit it out. "Yeah…but I mean…she was good for you."

Oh crap.

"No she wasn't," I argued.

"After you were with her, you could play again," she reminded me.

"I can still play."

"By the sounds of it earlier, the blockage is back and has lodged itself deeper in your brain."

"It doesn't have anything to do with the girl," I told her. Something in me shivered at the sound of those two words: _the girl_. It felt terrible to strip Bella of her name. Then, I also knew that I couldn't let Charlotte know that it was her who I slept with.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow, her eyes filled with a cheeky gleam. "I beg to differ."

I stood up, not knowing what to say, and started pacing the room, clutching the guitar at my side. I let my mind run as I tried to excuse myself. "I've just had a lot on my mind with having to go back to Forks, and with Rosalie and Carlisle being on my case, and having to see the twins again. It's just…it's just that there's a lot of shit going on, you know? That's why I'm acting weird and that's why the words don't flow. It has nothing to do with any girl."

Charlotte looked apologetic. That was the worst. "You know you don't have to go up there if you don't want to. Going up to Forks to see Emmett isn't worth this trouble if it's going to hurt you."

I shook my head. "Rosalie's my sister and he's her husband. And he's my brother. I have to go for her. I just…I have to go for them."

Charlotte nodded. She could see that the conversation was winding down. It was easy to see that she was going to take pity on me and end it. I really wished that pity wasn't involved.

"All right," she agreed, standing up from the bed. "Well, if you need anything or need to talk, you know that you can come to me."

"Yeah, I know."

"Peter and I are going to my parents on Friday night. We'll probably end up staying, so you might be alone for the night. Is that okay?"

"Absolutely."

With that, Charlotte left the room, and I threw myself down onto the bed and let sleep take me.

:::

Tuesday passed easily. Garrett and I worked on the art gallery and he got on my case about leaving the bar early. I couldn't explain to him that I was seeing Bella's face wherever I looked in that bar, imagining that first night where we met again. It just didn't make sense. I couldn't even wrap my own head around it. I told him a fake story about feeling sick and needing to leave, and thankfully he believed it.

I chose to walk home that afternoon. I couldn't explain why, but something inside me needed the fresh air. The rain was light, barely a drizzle, and the wind was only a weak breeze. The streets were crowded, but everything felt lonely and cold. The city was impersonal and distant. Nobody smiled. Nobody laughed. It was like there was a constant chill overhead.

As I walked what surprised me was that before I knew it I was walking straight towards Bella's little coffee shop, where the windows were fogging up in the heat and the smell of freshly ground beans was spilling out onto the street. I couldn't figure out what made me take this route – I had barely been paying attention to where I was going – but I couldn't help myself when I walked towards the shop and took a glance into the window.

Through the condensation I could see Bella. She was smiling as she served a customer – an elderly man with a walking stick and a cheeky grin. Her cheeks were flustered and her eyes shone as she laughed with him, free and comfortable in herself. She moved to make the coffee and the old man pointed to the battered book on the bench next to her. Bella laughed and blushed, handing it to him, and he flipped through the pages, the lines on his face deepening as he smiled. Bella continued laughing and smiling as she made his coffee and he chattered to her about the book. In that moment, she was herself – completely pure and happy and free. Watching her, even standing out in the cold, I felt warm. I could have watched her for hours, with her creeping blush, steamy eyes and spirited grin, but eventually the old man left and she went into the back room and I had to move on.

As soon as I got home I was at my desk, plucking at chords again. It finally started to sound right, and the music could actually move through me. From the night before, I had thought that I had lost it, but it was back. I found myself playing familiar chords, and soon sang along to the acoustic I was playing:

"'_Son,' she said, 'have I got a little story for you. What you thought was your daddy was nothin' but a..."_

The sound was distinct and different, missing the grind of the electric guitar and drum accompaniment in the original. Nevertheless, I was lost in it. The song pounded through my veins and the lyrics shook me. They always had, and I didn't know why. I had missed playing covers. Before, I felt like I was locked outside of myself. When I played, I felt like I was tapping into something in my soul. For a long time it had felt like nothing could ever come like it used to.

I wasn't distracted the first time I heard a pounding on the door. I figured that Peter or Charlotte would get it, and I didn't want to lose the music. I wasn't even bothered the second, third or fourth time the knock rocked the apartment. When the fifth time came around, however, I set the guitar aside and yelled out to Peter and Charlotte.

There was no answer. I didn't know where the hell they were, but they had clearly left the house. With a groan I stood up, stretched out my muscles, and went to get the door as the sixth knock came and went.

If we had a peephole, I would have looked through that, seen who was at the door and not answered it. Too bad we didn't and I didn't and I soon opened the door to reveal an angry face that brought back an influx of memories that I never wanted to see.

His name fell as soon as I saw him, surprised and shocked and a little angry. "Carlisle."

He gave me a tight nod, glancing up and down my body, judging everything that I was. "Evening, Jasper."

I folded my arms and stayed strong. "What are you doing here?"

He glanced behind me, observing my home and judging it with disgust. "Are you going to invite me inside?"

_I hadn't planned on it, asshole_.

I would have refused if I didn't have to see him again the next weekend and play happy families. Stepping aside, I let him pass me and ushered him into the living room. Carlisle took his time, looking over every inch of where I lived, critiquing everything he saw. I hated the feeling of him being in my safe home. He was like a parasite that invaded everything that I loved.

Carlisle stopped at the edge of the living room, his eyes glancing over the mess in the room. There were a few empty beer cans on the coffee table and a pile of clean laundry on the edge of the sofa. Carlisle cleared his throat, as if he was expecting me to act like a maid and clean up so it didn't soil his perfect self.

"Excuse the mess," I said, not even moving to clean it up. "But take a seat. _Please_."

Carlisle sighed reluctantly and took the recliner. "You could have at least tidied up a little bit."

I wasn't taking his shit. "Funny thing about that – I didn't know I would be having company. Speaking of, why are you here? What could you possibly need to say to me that you couldn't say over the phone?"

Carlisle looked angry, but he kept his cool and attempted to be indifferent. "Well, Jasper, it seems that whenever I do call you, you fail to pick up."

Huh. Yeah. Funny that.

"What a coincidence," I sneered.

Carlisle's temper was burning, but he held it back. "A little bit of manners wouldn't harm, Jasper."

_This _is_ me being polite to you, asshole._

I ignored him. "Alright then, so what's such a big deal that you couldn't get Rosalie to pass on the message like you usually do?"

Carlisle looked like he was about to blow his top. "This isn't something I would want to discuss with Rosalie…in her condition."

Huh. Typical. "_Condition?_ The girl's _pregnant_, Carlisle, not brain dead. She can handle anything you throw at her."

Carlisle was holding back the urge to smack me. "I would rather not _trouble her_, Jasper."

"You mean you want to keep her in the dark about it."

That touched a nerve. "I'm not the secret keeper here, Jasper."

_Oh really?_

"Of course. Yeah. I'm the bad step son with the deep-seated problems, and you're the darling husband with a heart of gold. I forgot."

"I don't like your sarcasm, Jasper."

Duh. Because it calls you out on your _shit_.

"Right. So, seeing as though you are not a 'secret keeper', you told mom that you were coming to see me today, right?"

Carlisle's eyes darkened. "Your mother doesn't need to know these things."

Fucking typical. He always liked to keep her in the dark about everything he did. It was a good way to control her world.

"You mean you don't _want _her to know," I challenged. I wasn't going to put up with his shit. It was one thing to treat me like shit. I wasn't going to let him keep playing his games and orchestrating the lives of my family.

Carlisle tried to play the disappointment card. "You know, it's such a shame, Jasper. You had _so much_ potential. If only you hadn't gone down _this_ road. " He punctuated his point by looking around my apartment. "Maybe you could have made something of yourself, instead of becoming a…uh…" he glanced at my paint-splattered clothes, sighing loudly, "_painter_? Is that your job of the moment? I wonder how long _that_ is going to last."

Asshole. He could rot in hell. If he wanted me to be like his precious Edward, he would have to die waiting for it to happen. I wasn't changing shit for him. As soon as I met him I knew that I wasn't going to concede and be what he or anyone else wanted of me. He wanted a "better" version of me. I wanted nothing from him.

"It's an honest living. More than I can say for you," I spat, seeing red and wanting to punch him in the nose.

"Let's not kid ourselves, Jasper. You've never lived _honestly_."

"That's kind of the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?" I challenged.

Carlisle looked like he was going to strangle me. I still hadn't sat down, refusing to let him feel comfortable. As soon as I spoke, he stood up, scowling at me, and got right in my face.

"You'd be best to learn your place, _boy_. If you want to spend _any_ time around Rosalie or the baby, you best learn to treat me with a little _respect_."

I wasn't backing down. I had to hold myself back from punching him in the nose. "I'm not one of your kids, Carlisle. You can't _threaten_ me. I'm not afraid of you."

Carlisle didn't look away from me. His ice blue eyes kept bearing into mine, trying to see a crack in my resolve. I narrowed my eyes and reminded him that there wasn't any. I wasn't a lost kid anymore. I wasn't vulnerable. He couldn't knock me around and try and force me into line anymore. Not that it ever worked.

Carlisle turned away from me with a loud groan. The man knew that he couldn't even try to overpower me.

"Your mother would be so disappointed in you," he sighed, as if he actually cared about her liking me. In honesty, if he had a choice, he would hope that my mother hated me. It would give him an excuse to wipe me completely out of his life.

I wasn't going to respond to the comment. I just wanted him to tell me the message and get out. I already felt as though he had infected my home. After not seeing him for months, having him so close to my safe haven unsettled me. I felt like a territorial animal. I felt like a slimy weed was rooting itself in my garden. It felt _wrong_.

"Just tell me what you're here for or get out."

Carlisle turned around as soon as I spoke. "Don't get smart with me," he growled.

"Don't _threaten _me," I replied.

Carlisle kept testing my boundaries. Still, there was none, and he eventually gave up and got down to business.

"Emmett is coming home on Friday night. You need to be in Forks on Thursday morning."

No fucking _way_. "I'm not taking two days off work. I'll leave Thursday after work and arrive later that night."

"This is not up for discussion, Jasper."

"I don't give a shit. I'm not taking two days off work."

Carlisle was not pleased. "You'll do what I tell you to do, without question."

This was just getting tiring. "I'm not Edward. I thought you would have learnt that after all these years _you cannot control me_."

Carlisle's face was going red with anger. The next thing he said had me spinning.

"You know what, Jasper? It doesn't really matter when you plan to come down, because I doubt whether you will even pass the test."

Oh fucking hell. A _test_? What was he – three years old?

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered.

Carlisle reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a little plastic container. I immediately knew what it was. I had seen it enough times.

"You are going to do a drug test. If you pass, you are allowed in my house. If you don't, you will not come within a mile of me or my family."

_Fucking asshole_.

"I'm not fucking peeing in a cup for you. Fuck off."

It wasn't a matter of passing the test or not. I knew I would pass, without a doubt. I had done drugs in high school because I was a fucked up kid, but not anymore. My mistakes when I was a kid didn't define who I was that day, and seeing another one of those cups after so many years of battling every single demon I had of them was just too much. I wouldn't do the test. It was a matter of pride and dignity. I wasn't that person anymore, and seeing someone force it on me reminded me of how I could never shake those mistakes no matter what I tried to do. I felt like buckling over because of the memories.

Carlisle raised an eyebrow. "If you don't, then you are not coming near my family."

"You mean _my_ family. Esme and Rosalie are more my family than they will _ever_ be yours."

Carlisle laughed cruelly. "You don't treat them like family."

I was about to snap his head off. "I treat them better than you have _ever_ treated _your_ family!"

A sick smile appeared. "Then pee in the cup and you will be able to see them. Well…that is as long as you _pass_."

"You cannot dictate to me whether or not I can see my family!" I yelled at him, completely losing control. I may not have seen Rosalie or my mother that often, but they meant more to me than _anything_. I would kill for them and that baby. Anyone who tried to stop me from seeing them was my worst enemy. "They are _my family_! You have _no right_!"

Carlisle was keeping his calm. He clearly had something else hanging over my head. "I'm sure that the sheriff will have a different opinion once he finds out about your history of drug abuse. Having someone with your…_tendencies_ around the baby when it's born is just unacceptable."

I was going to strangle him. "That's a bit hypocritical given _your_ history, isn't it? I'm sure that he wouldn't want a drug _dealer_ rocking the kid to sleep at night."

That sent Carlisle over the edge. In the blink of an eye he had his arm pressed hard against my throat and was pinning me to the wall. My head smashed loudly against the wood, my ears ringing.

"Lying is a _sin_, Jasper. You'll go to hell if you don't stop saying such _lies_!"

I spat in his face, refusing to let him shake me. "I'm already in hell. Nothing you say can take me down. But _you_ have a lot to lose if you don't _back off_."

Carlisle wiped the spit off his cheek and weakened his grip a little bit. "No one has ever believed you and no one ever _will_. I don't know where you got your ideas from, but you best _stop_ if you know what's best for you."

"Talk to anyone. I _don't_ know what's best for me," I snarled.

Carlisle reaffirmed his grip by smashing me against the wall again. "You _will not_ talk to me like this. I will not let you destroy this family!"

I could shout too. "I'm not the one _destroying it_!"

"I will not have a drug addict in my _house_!"

"You and I both know that I don't do drugs anymore! You'll just do anything to keep me away!"

Carlisle shoved away from me, and before I knew it there was a sharp impact on my jaw and a metallic taste filling my mouth. The next thing I felt was that little plastic cup being shoved into my chest.

"You'll pee in the cup or else you will never see Rosalie, Esme or the baby. I will make sure of that."

Carlisle's voice was dark and menacing. I had to crunch my hand into a fist to stop myself from punching him back. If I did, it would just screw everything up. He would not hesitate in telling my mother, and that would be the worst thing possible. He was already doing anything he could think of to stop me from coming up and ruining his fucking perfect family reunion. If my mother knew I punched him, she would support his decision to keep me away.

"You're a sick bastard," I spat, swallowing a mouthful of the metallic tasting blood filling my mouth.

"Take the test," Carlisle ordered.

"I'll pass. You know that."

"No I don't."

"I haven't done drugs in years," I claimed.

That was when I remembered.

Three years. It was almost three years since I had done any drug. I remembered why in a heartbeat.

Charlie.

Charlie had died on the twenty second of January, three years ago. That was when I finally stopped for good.

And the twenty second was next weekend. The same weekend that Emmett was coming home.

"According to you. And you're a liar," he snarled.

"I'll do it," I said then.

That took Carlisle by surprise. Clearly, he had been hoping I would continue to refuse and then not be allowed into his home, in the fear that I was hiding something. Clearly, he had wanted to convince my mother and Rosalie that my refusal to do the test meant I was still on drugs, and therefore it wasn't safe for me to be around.

"Why?" he demanded.

Why? Because I needed to go up to Forks to see Charlie, and I needed to give respect to his memory.

I refused to look at him. He didn't even deserve to hear Charlie's name. "Just give me the fucking cup."

He did. I took it into the bathroom and did what I had to, destroying half of my dignity as I went.

"Here," I said, handing him the zip-lock bag holding the cup.

Carlisle took it and slipped it into a hazard bag, and then into his briefcase. My jaw was throbbing, and I desperately wanted to pay him back for that hit, but I couldn't.

"I will let you know the results."

"Don't bother," I told him cruelly. "I already know them. I'll be up on Thursday night."

Carlisle was quiet, thinking of something to say. When the threat came, it sent a chill up my spine. "If you do _anything_ to ruin this weekend I will make sure that you _never_ see your family again."

I would have said that I knew that they would choose me over him no matter what, so the threat was empty, but in reality I didn't know that. He was capable of anything, and my mother was as weak-willed as they came. She never used to be, but things changed when she married him.

Carlisle gave me one extra look of disgust before he left. As soon as he was gone, I knew the truth. He wanted me to be a better version of myself. He wanted me to be like Edward; subservient to his every whim. But at that moment, I knew that I was better than either of them. At least I could hold onto that. I may not have been perfect, but I was a better person than him. I had to be.

:::

**Bella:**

The weekend was tough. When Jasper came in on Sunday I almost punched something. I already had enough on my mind; I couldn't deal with him as well. I tried to be indifferent, but he pushed my buttons, and when he mentioned the Cullen family I just couldn't stand it. It reminded me of everything that had happened with them and Edward and my father and how I had loved Edward once and how much it hurt. That reminder, on that weekend, after my conversations with Angela and my mother, almost had me in tears.

Jasper left quickly, looking absolutely torn. My heart ached for him, even though I wished it wouldn't. After that, I had even more on my mind.

For the most part, my week was uneventful. Boring. Tedious. Mediocre. I couldn't think of another adjective to use to describe it. I worked at the coffee shop all day and stayed in my apartment all night. I didn't have any contact with Jasper for the entire week. I didn't know whether contacting him would be appropriate after the weekend's events, and even though I could feel the temptation to see him and get down to business, I restrained myself. It just wasn't right; not at that point, when everything was so damn confusing.

Friday morning was like any other. Angela was in the kitchen, dressed for work and nibbling on a piece of toast, when I came in. She worked in the marketing department of a large firm in Seattle, having graduated college, top of her class, with a degree in business. She was successful and thriving, and remembering how shy and self-conscious she had been in high school, it really was a lovely thing to see.

Angela greeted me with a smile, gulping down her mouthful of toast with a dose of tea. Sleepy-eyed and wearing my old coffee-stained t-shirt, I made a beeline for the coffee machine as she spoke to me.

"Morning."

She sounded too chirpy for seven thirty in the morning. It made my brain hurt.

"Morning," I replied, but I sounded far less chirpy.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Well, thanks. You?"

"Excellent."

Angela punctuated the claim with a bright smile. I smiled back and grabbed the milk out of the fridge.

"So…" she continued, "what are your plans for today?"

I shrugged, poured the milk, and twisted the cap back on. "Work. Home. Dinner. Sleep. You know, the usual."

Only one syllable fell in reply. "Oh."

"Why?" I asked, putting the milk back in the fridge. "What are you doing?"

Angela was almost blushing, the excitement just streaming out of her. "Well…a few of the girls from the office and I are going out after work for drinks and dinner. I was just…wondering whether you would like to come? It will be fun!"

Oh.

"You don't need to ask me to go out with you just to cheer me up," I replied. "Really, it's okay. I'm fine."

"I'm not doing it just to cheer you up!" Angela claimed. "Well…okay…maybe that's a little bit of it, but it's not the main point. I just want to have fun with you! You're my best friend! Am I not allowed to ask my best friend to come out with me and the girls for the evening? Come on. That's silly. Come with us!"

I didn't reply right away, watching Angela to see if she was telling the truth – that she really did want me there. All she did was smile and nod, encouraging me to say yes. Eventually I did.

"Okay, I'll come. Thanks."

"Awesome," Angela smiled, grabbing her bag from the counter and downing her last few mouthfuls of tea. "We are going to be at Club 48 at six thirty. Come meet us there."

Taking a drink from my coffee, I smiled and nodded. Angela almost jumped for joy as she gathered her things, said goodbye, and headed out the door for work.

:::

The day was relatively slow. That's how Fridays generally went at the coffee shop. People weren't dreading the day as much – looking forward to the weekend – and so less needed the caffeine pick-me-up.

Because of the slow day, Lucy left early. It was nice to be alone for a while, in a place where I could relax and clear my head. I spent most of the afternoon reading, only making about five coffees for the few customers that came in.

When six fifteen rolled around I locked up the shop and headed out into the rain. Club 48 was about twenty minutes' walk away, and I didn't have money to spend on a cab, so I dragged on a raincoat, put up my umbrella, and headed out into the wet.

That was the thing that I hated most about Seattle; the rain and the cold. Sleepy Seattle was dreary and sodden. It itched at my skin and made me feel like a million pounds was weighted on my chest. Everyone on the street as so pale and washed out. The clouds were never-ending, always blocking out the warmth of the sun. Sometimes it felt like a cell in which we could never see the light of day.

I reached Club 48 just past six thirty. It wasn't too busy, still being early in the evening, with most of the patrons there for dinner before going out. Through the foggy window I could see Angela and three other women sitting around a table near the window, laughing and drinking fruity looking cocktails. I felt greatly contrasted to them; they were in the warmth and I was in the cold; they were dressed in smart, fashionable business clothes and I was wearing an old raincoat and a coffee-stained t-shirt; their appearances were perfect – everything from their makeup to their hair – whereas my hair was frizzed with the rain and I wasn't wearing a scrap of makeup. Standing in the cold and watching them, I almost didn't go inside. I almost turned around and headed home. I almost chickened out and went to drown in my sorrows. But, after taking a deep breath, shaking myself together and giving myself a good kick in the ass consisting of the mantra _"Get over yourself, Bella"_, I let my umbrella down and slipped off my raincoat as I walked through the door.

As I approached the table Angela greeted me with a big smile. The other three women stopped their conversation and looked up at me kindly. Angela was quick to jump to the introductions.

"Bella! You made it!"

I smiled back at her and walked towards the empty seat at the end of the table, between Angela and a redhead I swore I had seen before, but never knew the name of.

"Hi," I greeted cheerily. The girls all said their various versions of 'hello' as well.

"Bella, this is Maggie," Angela said, pointing to the redhead next to me, "and Tia" – she pointed to the little blonde next to Maggie – "and Mary," she introduced, pointing to a lady with light brown hair and feline-like eyes. "Girls, this is Bella, my flatmate. And now that introductions are over – Bella, would you like a drink? I'll go up and get some refills."

"Oh, rum and coke, thanks."

Angela smiled and took the other drink orders, which were either some tropical fruit concoction or wine. When she left it suddenly fell silent before Maggie spoke, her perfectly manicured fingers drumming on the table.

"So, Mary, is it true that you and Christian landed that big account today – you know, the one with the sports drinks?"

Mary grinned brightly, boasting about her accomplishments. "Sure is. We have a five million dollar deal with them. Christian was adamant that we wouldn't get over three, but of course I pushed them up a bit."

Maggie and Tia laughed like it was the most hilarious joke in the world. I was just reeling over the _five million dollars_ part. I would never see that much money in my entire life. I could barely afford to pay the _rent_, let alone afford the expensive clothes that these women wore. Even buying a few drinks at the bar on a Friday night was a stretch for my budget. I could never imagine dealing with that sort of money.

"I still don't know how you do it," Tia giggled. "Whenever I try to push, my clients can't take me seriously. You just must be more forceful than me."

"That's because you're too nice," Maggie laughed. "You don't need to _push_. All you need to do is bat your eyelashes and wiggle your bum. The men fall head over heels for it."

The three burst out into laughter once again. It felt like I was watching them from behind soundproof glass. The way they interacted with each other was so perfect – almost scripted. It would be weird to say that there was no reality in it, but that's what it felt like. Their smiles were as fake as their nails and their pleasantries were only there to hide the resentment burning in their eyes. It was odd to me. I knew that I wasn't the most upfront person when feelings were concerned – hell, I liked to hide from them as much as I could – but pretending to find a friend funny when you despised them was just off to me. I couldn't help but think of Jasper then. When I was around him, we bickered like hell and didn't hold anything back. He brought that emotion out of me, and these girls…they were so _different_ – cold, even.

It was then that Angela arrived back with the drinks. The laughter died down upon her arrival.

"So, what are we talking about?"

Maggie spoke up. "Mary's success! She got the sport's drink account. Did you hear?"

Angela's whole face lit up with happiness. You couldn't doubt her sincerity. "Oh wow, congratulations Mary! That's so great!"

Mary was glowing under the praise. "Thanks, Angela. You know I couldn't have done it without your help on the pitch. Thank you so much."

Angela blushed and brushed away the comment. That was when surprise shook me.

"_Anyway_, enough about us," Tia popped, turning to me. "Bella, Angela has told us so much about you. She said that you went to Texas State University for English. Is that right? It sounds…interesting. What are you doing with that now?"

_Oh._ Yeah. That.

I looked to Angela, begging for a way out. She looked horrified. Clearly she hadn't told them that I had never _finished_ college.

Turns out I had to.

"Oh, yeah, I did, but I…uh…didn't finish."

Drawn-on eyebrows raised into foreheads all around the table. "You didn't finish? Well – what – why's that? Angela hadn't said…"

I felt like I was under an interrogation, and I really did not want to relive the events of the story.

"I…uh –"

I went to make some sort of explanation, but Angela bet me to it. "Bella took some time off. For _personal_ reasons."

_Personal reasons?_ Oh Christ.

Angela looked at me apologetically. Hearing the explanation made me feel like a pitchfork had been driven through my heart. The fact that they were all prying into my past made me nervous and self-conscious, especially seeing as though everyone around me was super successful and beautiful, and I…well, I just worked in a coffee shop.

"Oh," Tia nodded. I never knew that one syllable could be so full of judgements.

There was a small moment of silence. It was as if we were in our own little bubble of awkwardness and immune to the cheery surroundings.

"So, where do you work then?" Mary asked, breaking the ice. She was looking at me expectantly. Angela looked nervous. I just really didn't want to do this. It was all about status to them.

"Uh…I work at a coffee shop on the corner of Fifth and Vine."

"Oh," squealed Maggie. "That's where I've seen you before! That's such a…_adorable _coffee shop. You make the most delicious Soy Mocha Latte."

I smiled politely. "Thanks."

"I'd say you make the best coffee in Seattle, or at least in this part of Seattle," Maggie claimed. The other two copied her laughter. I felt like an idiot. I wasn't up to par with these girls. I made their coffee. I wasn't their equal.

"So that explains the coffee stains on your shirt and the little logo on the breast!" Tia giggled. "And I thought it was just some sort of fashion statement. You know – like bohemian chic or something."

Laughter rang out again. Angela looked apprehensive. I was starting to blush in embarrassment, searching eagerly for a way out. I felt like I was in the middle of some sort of ritual where they find out everything about your life in order to evaluate what kind of status you deserve.

The girls kept chattering away. The topics moved from my clothing to my hair and to where I grew up. When the conversation then moved to the latest Alexander McQueen collection I had to get out of there. I wasn't making any worthwhile contributions to the conversation – I barely understood what they were talking about – and I couldn't afford to spend any more money on drinks. So, I made an excuse and got out.

Maggie and Tia were laughing about some fashion joke when I nudged Angela.

"Hey, I have to go. I'm so sorry."

"What? Why? Don't leave yet!"

I dug into my pocket and pulled out a ten dollar note to pay for my two drinks. "I think I left the backdoor open at work. I have to go and check it."

Angela's eyes widened and she nodded quickly. "Oh shoot. Okay, go. I'll see you later on."

"Great. See you. And thanks for the drinks. It was really nice."

After shaking the girls' hands and saying my goodbyes I rushed out the door and into the downpour. I didn't know where I would go next. The story about the backdoor was a lie, so I didn't need to go back to work. At any normal time I would have gone straight home to make dinner, watch a movie and go to bed. But that night it didn't seem right. I didn't want to go home to be reminded of how I was camping out in my successful friend's apartment, of which I could barely pay my share of the rent, to do what I did every single night. I needed something to break the monotony of my life and do something that cheered me up a little bit.

I didn't really notice where I was heading until I wound up outside his apartment door, raising my fist to deliver two solid knocks.

I could hear the television blaring behind the door. There was a rustle of feet on the wooden floor as someone came to open the door. There was a few seconds' pause before it swung open.

Sure enough, he was there, in all his glory. He was wearing a white beater and a pair of worn jeans. His hair was shaggy and in disarray. His eyes had an odd glow in the blue and he was just as surprised to see me as I was to be there.

"Bella."

I tried to smile. "Hi, Jasper."

His eyes raked up and down my body. "You're soaked."

"I noticed."

"What are you doing here?"

Good question. "Are you busy?"

Jasper ran a hand through his hair, looking behind him into the living room. "Well…no. Why?"

"Can I come in?"

Jasper looked surprised. I felt the same way.

"Uh…sure," he agreed. I wasn't expecting it – I was the last person who deserved his kindness – but nevertheless, Jasper stepped aside and let me into his home with an open heart and a kind smile.

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><p><strong>Proudly beta'd by LithiumReaper<strong>

**Reviews would be lovely. I love to see your thoughts. We have nearly broken 100, which is absolutely astounding. I'm completely blown away. Let's push it over the barrier, shall we?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of it, and I make no claims to it.**

**Late updates are fail. I apologise. Blame University. Thank you all for the support. We made it over 100 reviews! Yay! I am completely blown away. You all deserve hugs and cookies.**

**LithiumReaper is my fantastically awesome amazing beta with super Yoda powers. She kept me off the ledge with this one, dealt with my obsessive hyperactive rambling over the new Harry Potter movie, and gave me some great ideas for the chapter. Praise her, praise her!**

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><p><strong>Bella:<strong>

"I'm sorry to intrude. I just…uh…well…"

_Well what, Bella, what? _How could I possibly explain this – me randomly turning up at Jasper's door, on a Friday night, unannounced and soaked with rain? What could possibly authorise this?

Yeah. I had no idea.

I squeezed past Jasper and stepped into the living room. He shut the door behind me and tried to give me some reassurance.

"It's fine. I wasn't doing anything. Here – uh – I can take your raincoat."

Jasper held his hand out graciously, and I eventually managed to peel the coat off. Jasper went to hang the coat up by the door as I glanced around the living room, noticing the half drank beer on the coffee table and the movie on pause.

"Quiet night in?" I noted as he stepped into the room.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Huh. Yeah. Something like that."

"What are you watching?" I asked, picking the DVD case up from the counter. I read the title as he answered.

"Fight Club. It's just starting."

"_Fight Club_?"

Jasper nodded. Soon, a small smile appeared. "What – do you have a problem with Fight Club?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "No, no. The opposite, actually. I love it."

Jasper smirked. His playful side decided to come out. "I think we're breaking the number one rule, then."

Of course. "Do not talk about Fight Club," I nodded.

Jasper laughed. I smiled. It felt warm. But, as soon as it came, the warm feeling started to leave when Jasper indicated to the bedroom. "So…uh…did you want to…well, you know?"

The thought hadn't even crossed my mind.

I knew that I looked surprise at the suggestion. I had forgotten what we were. "Oh, no, I don't. I…uh…I should go."

I headed for the door. I had barely taken three steps when I felt a soft hand on my elbow. I spun around to see Jasper right there.

I looked confused. So did_ he_. The whole thing was very out of the ordinary.

"You…you don't have to go," he said, removing his hand quickly. I didn't answer, still coping with the surprise. I could see the hesitation in his eyes as he continued. "I mean, I have a pizza coming. Why don't you stay and watch the movie with me?"

I raised an eyebrow. Jasper saw my hesitation immediately.

"I know that there are rules, but you kind of broke them first by coming here and not intending to have sex," he pointed out. I nodded. This was true. "And plus, it's not like this is a date or anything. The movie is hardly romantic. It's just two people watching a movie and chowing down on some pizza. What do you think?"

Tempting. It was very tempting. I could still feel the reservations about it. It just wasn't what we were, and I kept remembering all of the bad times back in Forks that put a dark cloud over us now. But still, I was tempted. It was exactly what I needed. A violent, angry movie with psychotic tendencies was the perfect thing to get my mind off everything. Pizza was always good – you had to be an idiot to turn _that_ down. And Jasper…well, his company was nice – even when we were bickering.

It was silent for a few moments. Jasper was waiting for an answer and I was deliberating. Eventually I threw caution to the wind and agreed. I didn't want to go home, and Jasper's offer sounded just about perfect.

"Sounds great," I agreed.

Jasper smiled warmly. I felt like I was about to blush.

"Awesome. Take a seat. Do you want anything to drink? I have lots of stuff…"

"Whatever you're having is good, thanks."

"Beer?"

"Yup."

Jasper was back in a few moments, handing me the can. "I hope you like Meat Lover's Supreme, because that's what I ordered."

"My favourite," I grinned.

Jasper raised an eyebrow, as if he was surprised. "Thank God."

"What?"

"I thought you might like Veggie Delight or some shit, and then I'd have to kick you out," he teased.

I laughed and took a seat on the sofa. "Yuck. Shit tastes like cardboard."

Jasper laughed heartily and took his seat on the sofa too. "Finally there's someone who agrees with me. My roommates seem to be set on the idea that it's _delicious_ and _nutritious_."

I took a swig of my beer, laughing like a lunatic. "I don't think that pizza can really be _nutritious_."

Jasper picked up the remote with a wide grin. "Not the good stuff, anyway."

"Just play the damn movie."

Jasper chuckled and did just that. As we were being initially introduced to the monotony of life in the beginning of the movie, we settled down into the sofa, each at an end with two feet separating us. I curled one leg up under my body and pulled the other to my chest, cradling my beer can in my hand. Jasper slouched back, relaxed, one hand wrapped around his can and the other behind his head, tangled up in his messy hair. It took a few minutes for him to speak.

"I've always loved the beginning of this. I don't know why – just how they do it. It punctuates and explains his movement away from the normality of life even better."

"I love it when he goes to all of the meetings and finds some sort of peace there. It's interesting. Bob is my favourite character."

Jasper turned to me, questioningly. "Why do you like that part? He pretends to be a victim for his own selfish gain."

I shrugged. "I know. It's not that notion of it that I like. It's the idea that the emotional release allows him to cure his insomnia. He gets it out, and he's feeling better."

Jasper nodded in understanding. A few seconds later, he let out a short laugh. "He's still completely fucked in the head though."

"This is true," I agreed. "But at least Marla still sticks by him."

"She shouldn't," Jasper claimed.

"She loves him," I replied. "The good and the bad. You can't hate her for that."

"No," Jasper agreed, smiling slightly. "But it's still an idiotic move."

"Love is blind," I chimed. Jasper was silent then.

We were at least twenty minutes into the movie when there was a knock on the door. Sitting in the quiet, just sipping on beers and relaxing, was nice. It was more comfortable than I ever thought it could be. When the knock came, Jasper paused the movie and started digging in his pockets for the pizza money.

"Oh shit, where'd I put the cash?"

I looked around the room and spotted it on the counter. "Oh, there! Found it. I'll get it. We can split it, half and half."

Jasper tried to protest, but I didn't let him. I leapt off the sofa, grabbed half of the cash from the counter, dug in my pockets for the remaining scraps to fill the bill, and went to answer the door. After paying for the pizza I brought it over and plopped it down on the coffee table, before throwing myself back onto the sofa. Jasper dove into the box and pulled out a piece before I could blink. When he noticed me looking at him strangely, he raised an eyebrow.

"There are only the quick and the dead around here," he grinned.

"What ever happened to 'ladies first'?" I teased.

"I had a feeling you weren't really in to that chivalrous shit."

And here I was preparing myself for him to treat me in that annoying as fuck, misogynistic way _Edward_ always had, as if I was some delicate fucking snowflake, not his equal. It was a breath of fresh air.

I grinned, flipped the lid on the pizza and grabbed my own slice. "You thought right."

Jasper laughed through his bite and un-paused the movie. "Most girls would call it gentlemanly and demand that treatment every day."

I shrugged. "I'm not most girls."

Jasper turned to face me then, his tone suddenly deeper – more serious. Sky blue eyes locked with mine. I suddenly felt nervous. "And why is that?"

I shrugged again and avoided his eyes, focusing on the TV. "I don't want a guy to treat me like I'm some breakable porcelain doll who needs to be worshipped. I'd rather them argue with me and treat me like an equal who is perfectly capable of handling herself." I looked at the pizza box, smiling a little. "I'd rather them fight with me over the last piece of pizza – not offer it to me out of chivalry because they think it will hurt my feelings if they don't."

My eyes flickered to Jasper. He was still looking at me. I felt like my cheeks were on fire as I looked away again and kept blabbering, trying to change the subject to something that didn't make him look at me in that way that made me feel like he was seeing something I didn't want him to.

"I mean, what's the point of being with someone if you don't challenge each other? I would hate to have a partner who does everything for me and lives to serve or please or protect me from every little thing that could hurt my feelings. It would drive me insane. Like, if I was a guy, I would hate to have a girlfriend who insists on cooking me dinner and catering to my every whim every single night. I'd want her to challenge me and tell me to shove my dinner up my ass sometimes. I mean, come on, wouldn't you? What's the point of being in a relationship where nothing is ever challenging and everything is just so…_perfect_?"

As soon as I had spoken, I knew I shouldn't have. Jasper wasn't laughing or smiling. He wasn't taking it with a light-heart. Instead, he was still looking at me in that way which freaked me out. I wanted to smack his shoulder and tell him to stop looking at me like that. It was too…_unnerving_.

I looked away, trying to focus on anything but him. I tried to concentrate on the movie, but I lost my sense of direction with the plot. I ended up just staring at the characters on the screen, trying to focus on little things like what colour eyes they had or what hair colour they had, but it still didn't quite stick. Jasper's silence unnerved me. I didn't dare to look at him.

It felt like hours had passed, but in reality it was all of a few seconds. When he spoke, I was shaken.

"Yeah, no, I agree with you. Completely," he said, grabbing another slice of pizza.

Surprised, I couldn't help but look at him, blushing like an idiot because I had just embarrassed the hell out of myself. The hesitation in his voice, however, shook me.

"You don't sound so sure of yourself."

Jasper shook his head and bit into his pizza. "Surprised, is all."

"Surprised about what?"

Jasper was hesitant about answering. He shook his head, refusing. Only after I prodded and poked him did he spit it out.

"Your opinion is the complete opposite of what someone would expect it to be, but the same as what I hoped it would be."

Okay. "Explain a little more, please?"

Jasper looked worried then. "Just forget it."

Huh. _No._ "Tell me."

Jasper looked very hesitant. I nodded, trying to force it out of him. He was defiant, clamping his mouth shut. I couldn't help but laugh at his defiance. Until it hit me.

If you looked at my past, you would _expect _me to want a relationship where I was treated like a special fucking snowflake by some chivalrous prick. It was exactly what my relationship with Edward had been. Jasper had hoped it would be different because he hated Edward, and knowing that he was fucking someone who still wanted an Edward would probably piss him off. The whole realisation hit me like a battering ram.

"Don't worry. I get it," I said then, laughing slightly and taking another piece of pizza, needing to defuse the tension.

Jasper looked slightly startled, but soon settled back down into the movie. Soon the pizza was eaten, our beers were drunk, and the movie was winding down with the final scene. Once it was over, I felt too comfortable to move. Jasper looked sideways at me, and for a brief moment I thought I should get out of there, before he came up with a suggestion.

"How about another movie? I think Blood Diamond is playing on TV in about twenty minutes. It's a good movie."

"It's not just good. It's an _amazing_ movie," I pointed out. "But…uh…are you sure you want me here?"

I was apprehensive about intruding, and still felt undeserving after my episode with the girls. I still felt like a second-class citizen. But Jasper looked surprised at the question, and it warmed my heart. He didn't make me feel inferior. He made me feel…worth it. He made me feel like I was his equal; not worse, not better. Just equal.

"If I didn't want you here, I wouldn't have offered you a way to stay longer."

I couldn't help but smile. "Good."

Jasper grinned and stood up from the sofa. "Well, we have twenty minutes before it starts. Do what you must. Once the movie's on, no interruptions."

"Yes, sir," I joked.

Jasper smiled and headed towards the hallway. "I'm going to the bathroom. Be back soon."

"Take your time."

Jasper headed down the hallway and disappeared through a door at the end. For a few moments I sat on the couch, looking around the room with the warm brown walls and comfortable furniture, reeling in the homely feeling of it. I could feel my legs going numb from being folded under me, so I pulled myself up and stretched them out, letting the blood flow to my toes. I walked around the room a little bit, trying to kill some time. That was when I spotted a guitar perched up against the wall, sitting there invitingly, made of a deep brown wood. Tentatively, I walked over and picked it up. I was not a musically gifted person, but I did appreciate the beauty in it. My father had been the musically-gifted one. It was one of the few things we had been able to share together.

I brought the guitar over to the sofa, sat down, and positioned it on my knee. I only knew one song that I couldn't help but pluck away at. For a moment there, I wasn't twenty-three year old Bella sitting around in Jasper Whitlock's apartment. Instead, I was six years old again and perched on the sofa next to my father – the man with the kind eyes and the big heart.

"_Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song, and make it better. Remember, to let her into your heart. Then you can start to make it better…"_

My playing was simple. My voice was terrible. But I didn't care. To me, it wasn't about what it sounded like. It was just about playing, and remembering.

Before I knew it I was finishing the song and drawing a deep breath, my nerves abnormally calm and my thoughts sombre. I was almost shaken into fright when a floorboard creaked near the door to the hallway.

Shocked, I looked up in a rush. Jasper was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, observing me with those eyes again. Those eyes. Those _eyes_. That _look_. It would all be the death of me.

I struggled to calm my heart, standing up quickly. "I…uh…I'm sorry. I just found it over there and got caught up and…"

I couldn't finish my sentence. I had no other excuse. As I floundered for something to say Jasper watched me inquisitively. When I went to put the guitar away, he finally spoke.

"No, no, don't worry, it's fine. It was good. You were good. I didn't know you could play."

I laughed at the thought. The mere simple chords of that song had been a struggle. "Oh no, I can't. That's the only song I know."

Jasper craned his head slightly, still watching me in that unnerving way. I wanted to shake that feeling off my skin. "Is there something special about that song?"

"Well – uh – yes…no. Uh…kind of. It doesn't matter," I stuttered nervously. I could barely put into words what I was trying to say. I wanted to dismiss the topic as quickly as possible. I didn't need to discuss with Jasper the details of my life with my father.

"Everything matters. You shouldn't dismiss something that is special to you like that," he said then.

I was taken aback. Slightly shocked and disorientated, I looked up to him, still clutching the guitar in my hands. Something inside me seemed to shift as I looked at him. There was something behind his words that made them burn.

"I suppose you're right," I agreed.

Jasper was the first to look away, averting his eyes to the floor. He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking like a nervous wreck, as he replied. "So, are you going to tell me about the song?"

Something in his tone had a deeper meaning than just the simple, obvious question at hand. There was some sort of knowing, or expectation, or pleasure in it. I couldn't quite pick what.

"Uh…no…it's nothing," I attempted to dismiss, shrugging. I didn't want to talk about it.

Jasper looked at me. Something in his eyes shook me. "It's not _nothing_," he claimed.

I had to look away. I didn't want to talk about it anymore. So, I tried to explain and dismiss it as quickly as possible.

"My father used to sing it to me when he tucked me in at night when I was little, instead of telling me a bedtime story," I shrugged nonchalantly.

Jasper nodded, watching me carefully. My voice had been quiet, but his silence unnerved me. He just kept nodding, as if trying hard to process the information – as if he understood something in it all.

"It's a beautiful song," he agreed.

I only nodded.

Jasper stayed quiet as he walked towards to sofa to sit down. "Your father must have been a – uh – _Beatles_ fan."

I didn't want to talk about my father anymore. Instead I picked up the guitar, sat down, and offered it to Jasper.

"Is this yours?"

Jasper looked at the guitar in my arms. There was a flicker of something is his eyes as he looked at it, as if he was connected to it or something. He moved with it, being pulled closer to it as it lay in front of him, almost like magnets.

"Uh, yeah, it is," he nodded then.

"You should play something," I said, handing it to him. "It's only fair, seeing as though you just heard me butcher a classic with my tone-deaf singing and childlike chord-plucking." I tried to finish the offer off with a laugh, needing to lift the tension.

Jasper smiled lightly, taking the offer. "What should I play?"

"Anything you want to."

Jasper smiled, and it felt like an electric current went streaming through the air. He took a deep breath, grounding himself, and brought his hands up to the strings. Holding the guitar, he looked completely at home, as if it was an extension of his self. It was as though, without it, he wasn't complete. He bent over the body and plucked a few simple strings. I soon noticed that his eyes were closed, as if there was nothing else in the world – only Jasper, his guitar, and that moment.

I didn't recognise the chords in the beginning, only because I hadn't heard it played acoustically for so long, and even when I had, it had been when I listened hard against a wall of plaster, the sound only ever emanating from inside my father's bedroom in the dead of the night. But as soon as he sang the first line, I could feel my chest caving in on itself. His voice was soft and smooth, with just the right twang to make it his own. The chords were slow and building, stealing all of the attention and power in the room. You couldn't help but listen.

"_When I look into your eyes, I can see a love restrained. But darlin' when I hold you, don't you know I feel the same…"_

Jasper was lost in the song. His hands moved over the strings as though they were his second skin. His voice was effortless and his passion was unwavering. And as he sang the lyrics, you could see something else in there. He wasn't just singing for the sake of a good cover. He was singing with life and meaning and feeling; as though the words meant as much to him as my song had to me.

When he was finished, I could barely speak. Jasper caught sight of my amazement and shook himself back into reality. It almost looked _painful_ as he set the guitar aside and lost contact with it.

"November Rain, by Guns 'n Roses," he said.

"I know," I nodded, watching his eyes. There was something in them that was so familiar to me – some sort of feeling that I had seen in another. In my father. "Why did you choose that one?"

Jasper shrugged, but he couldn't hide the feelings from me. Not them. Not then. "Someone I cared about a lot taught it to me."

"Who?"

I already had an idea, but I knew that he would never tell me if I was right.

Jasper fell silent, looking at me for a moment, considering his words before he said them.

"My father."

The chill that went up my spine frightened me. I pushed it away and tried to distract myself.

"So, your father was musical?"

Jasper shrugged nonchalantly, as if it didn't really matter. He started to pick up the guitar then, laying it flat on his lap, as if subconsciously. It was as though he needed to be attached to it – he couldn't help it.

"My first guitar was from him – a hand-me-down with a missing string," he answered.

"Did he teach you how to play?"

Jasper's tone was bland, as if he was reciting a speech, not answering the questions with any sort of care or emotion. "Yes. He wanted to hear my voice."

There was something behind those illogical words that made perfect sense to him. I thought I understood.

"Why didn't you just talk to him?"

Jasper strummed a sharp chord, stirring the air. "I couldn't. Words are fleeting."

"And music isn't?"

Jasper looked offended. I only wanted more of an explanation.

His eyes looked up at me then, powerful, as his fingers ran subtly over soft strings. "How many times have you lied?"

I understood.

"A lot."

The look in his eyes confirmed that I understood. The chord that he played was sombre. "Music never lies."

We fell quiet again. Jasper plucked at chords, light and bright, making the music float softly through the air. He was comfortable in the silence; a man of few words. He always had been. He always had had that air of mystery about him. It was hard to know what he was thinking. In a lot of ways, he was like my father. I liked it, too. I had always felt more at home in the quiet.

When Jasper broke the silence, it was almost jarring.

"It's my turn to ask a question," he said.

My voice cracked as I spoke. "W-what?"

"We've talked about my father, but whenever someone brings up yours, you shrink away. Why?"

I felt a tearing sensation in my chest. I didn't want to answer. It took me a long time just to gather my voice.

"My father's dead."

I didn't want to talk about this with him. Not him. Not _Jasper_. I couldn't. It would hurt too much.

"So is mine," Jasper replied, "but that doesn't stop me from talking about him."

He didn't understand. I didn't want him to push me anymore. He _couldn't_ _push me_ anymore. I wouldn't let him talk about my father. I couldn't bear to face it. I almost felt like I was going to cry at the mere thought of it. I didn't want to have to feel it. I wasn't going to let him make me.

"I can't. Not now. Not with…"

I couldn't say it, but Jasper knew what I meant.

"Not with me?"

I refused to answer. I refused to do anything. All I could do was force away the feelings that were trying to attack me.

"Why not, Bella?" he pressed.

I shook my head and kept my expression strong. I wouldn't let him push me. I wouldn't let him force a crack in my wall. So, instead, I did the only thing I could think of to push away those feelings. I had to stop it. I had to cheapen it. We were getting too close. It wasn't right.

So, I leant forward, took Jasper's face in my hands, and kissed him hard.

:::

**Jasper:**

When I first heard the music playing, I thought I was imagining it. I thought I had finally cracked, like the pressure of having Bella in my house and Forks looming ahead and Charlie's death on the horizon and Carlisle's previous visit distracting me had finally sent me over the edge. To my overwhelmed mind, it only made sense that I was hearing that song, like some sort of annoying as fuck ghost of the past back to haunt me. It only made sense, until I heard a female's voice singing the lyrics.

I hadn't been surprised when Bella turned up at my door. Knowing what she saw us as, it didn't seem out of the ordinary. What surprised me was when she turned down sex and agreed to spend time with me and watch a movie instead. When she went on her rant about relationships, there was some sort of spark or resentment in her eyes, as if she was battling some sort of internal demon. What she said pleased me, because it made me think that she didn't actually want Edward. It was reassuring. But this...this playing – seeing her playing the song that had meant so much in my adolescence – surprised me most of all. But then again, it shouldn't have. Not really. Not when it was her father's song. I wasn't the only one who he had been close to. I couldn't expect to be the only one he taught it to. And although he had told me back then that he and Bella were not as close as they used to be, he also said that there was once a time when they _were_ close – a time when she sat on his knee and idolised him, and he idolised her even more. A time before Edward.

But when I tried to talk to her about it, she wouldn't have a bar of it. She didn't want to talk about her father. There was a strong sense of refusal in her spirit. So, when she asked me to play, I tried to tell her what was happening through the music.

My father had never taught me _November Rain_. The way Bella was looking at me once I was finished made me think that she knew that very well. It also made me think that she knew who _actually_ had taught it to me – _her _father. It was the first song I ever heard him play. It was the song that broke down the wall between us and made me _really_ listen to what he had to say. It was the song that showed me that we actually had _something_ in common – the music. It was the song that he played to himself in the quiet. I thought that Bella knew that. It seemed like she realised that as she listened to me.

She started to ask me about my father, and I tried to answer her. I tried to make her understand what the music meant to me, and what her father did for me when he gave it back to me after my own father died. It seemed like she needed that. It seemed like she needed to know that someone else loved him, and that he wouldn't just be forgotten. I tried to tell her that as best I could. And I think she got it.

But she still wouldn't talk about him herself. Not with me there. Not with the step-son of the guy who destroyed her father's life sitting in the room.

Before I knew it, she was latching herself on to me and kissing me deeply.

Her lips were soft and her mouth tasted like peppermint. Her hair brushed across my cheeks as she leant in to me, smelling like strawberries and coffee, and her hands tangled themselves into my hair. She was pulling me closer, roughly, almost desperately. I tried to distance her from me and talk to her, but she wouldn't have a bar of it.

"Bella, what are you –"

Bella's eyes met mine, torn and steaming, and she shook her head desperately. I swore that she was almost fighting back the tears as she did so. I had to get her to talk to me.

I tried to stop her again. "Bella, wait, stop, we have to –"

She shook her head again, closed her eyes, and slammed her lips to mine. I tried to fight. I did. But with every move she made my resolve faltered. I couldn't resist her. The feeling of her weight on my lap as she wriggled around, creating a crazy amount of friction between us, was driving me insane. I wanted to explore all of the tastes in her mouth. I wanted to feel her skin against mine. I wanted _her_, and Bella knew that very well. Before I properly realised what was happening, the idea of talking flew out of my mind and my hands were on her waist, gripping her tight as we kissed.

After that, everything seemed to blur together, like our instincts kicked in hard and all reason went flying out the window. For a moment, it hurt that we were doing this – resorting to sex when the moment got tough; _cheapening_ the moment, even. But I also remembered what we were, and what Bella made sure we stayed as by setting down the rules. This was us. This was what we were meant for. Sex. Nothing else. Talking was overrated and unnecessary. We both knew that. When I let that cruel reminder take over, it was all much easier.

It wasn't long before I felt Bella's hands go down towards my belt buckle. Her fingers were clumsily slipping over it, fumbling with the clasp. Nerves were taking over her, and she had to break our kiss in order to concentrate on it. Even doing that, she couldn't quite manage it. I hated the loss of contact, so I soon grabbed her hands to stop them. Gently, I pulled her chin up, and kissed her again, trying to settle her – trying to slow her down.

She seemed to feel more comfortable in the kiss, ebbing into the slight movements like the ocean, but with every passing moment the anticipation was building. Her hands roamed over my chest curiously, her tongue searching desperately in my mouth as I reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head in one shift motion. The smell of heat and coffee and strawberries hit me; almost overwhelmed me. I couldn't help but smile as Bella blushed, bit her lip, and grabbed the hem of my shirt, too.

It only took her a broken moment to whip it over my head. Once she had, her lips slammed back to mine, eager and hungry and sweet like honey. I tried to catch her eye and see what she was thinking. I tried to see if there was any reservation there – anything that would tell me something about what she was thinking. But, without fail, I couldn't catch them. She wouldn't let me. When I tried to speak once more, she smothered my attempts with her lips and shook her head.

Shirtless, I could feel her hot skin pressed up against mine; her perfect porcelain against my scarred shell. It made me feel exposed. Having her fingers trail along the bumps and indents of my scars frightened me, but she seemed to barely even notice their presence. Every touch sent me over the edge and made my heart leap out of my chest.

I went to her neck, trailing light kisses along it. Bella pulled me closer, her hands fisting in my hair, grinding her little body against mine. Our jeans were nothing but stark annoyances, restricting the movement and friction we could create.

Her skin tasted like warm lemon and honey and girl. I could hear a dull rumbling in her chest as I moved to her breast, massaging gently and laying kisses across those beautiful mounds of flesh still encased in her bra. Bella's body arched into me in response, and that grind on my lap made me almost cry out, feeling restricted and caged and needing to _feel _her.

Bella's hot hands moved to my chest as I kissed and massaged her, tugging and pulling at my skin, pressing us closer together, instinctual and hot and almost animal-like. She wouldn't stop wiggling on top of me, begging for more, whispering my name into my ear. I felt like I was caught under her spell. I would do anything that she wanted of me. I felt like I would never be able to remove her smell from my skin. I didn't want to, either, because as she wriggled about on my lap, her knees on either side of my hips, she pulled my face up to hers, locked her eyes with mine – steamy and lustful and full of power – and begged for more.

"I need it, Jasper."

Those four words were so simple, but the passion behind them was anything but. For a moment, I considered a deeper meaning behind them. Did she need me for sex, or was there something else there that we were tapping in to? I didn't know, and I didn't want to think about it, because as I looked into her eyes – deep brown, like aging wood and steaming hot chocolate – I just wanted to savour the moment, not spoil it by over-thinking.

For a fleeting moment, we shared a look, but before I could say anything she was kissing me again, one hand tangled in my hair and the other reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra. Before I knew it, she had slipped it off and thrown it to the side. Within a second, I felt her breasts pressed hard against my chest as she went to kiss me again, desperately pulling us closer, almost as if she was trying to merge us into one person. I returned the urgency, pulling her hips closer to mine, rubbing against me, making me noticeably hard.

My hands roamed over her torso, wrapping around her waist and running up and down her back. The air around us was humid and sticky, and the heat between our bodies was worlds away from the freezing night air outside us. I could barely get enough of her; her taste, her lips, her body, her fire. I could have stayed like that for hours, not going any further, and enjoyed it perfectly. Her skin was so soft and her desire was so forceful. But when her hot hands went to my chest and started pushing me back into the sofa, I knew that she wanted to move on.

I was taken a little by surprise, and raised an eyebrow as she pushed herself back up from my chest to perch over my hips, a cheeky gleam in her eye.

"What are you…?"

I couldn't finish my sentence, because as soon as I spoke Bella looked up at me, her face flushed, her eyes sparkling, and her hair falling around her face and over her bare breasts like a wild mane. I was breathless. I could have watched her like that for hours. I wished that I could have frozen time just so I could take it in a little longer. But soon, I was taken by surprise again when Bella's hands went to my belt buckle, making quick work of the clasps.

In order for me to get my pants off, Bella stood up from the sofa. I hated losing contact with her, and so I shuffled them off quickly. A small smile appeared on Bella's lips as she watched me, and slowly she started to peel off her own jeans. Beneath them she was only wearing a pair of tight blue boy shorts. I never knew a pair of underwear could turn me on so much. Wrapping her arms around the front of her chest, as if she was shy to reveal her body to me – as if she had never done it before – she grinned like a child and hid her pink cheeks behind her hair.

"Do you have a condom?" she whispered, almost shyly.

Oh fuck. Running a hand through my hair, I almost felt like hitting myself. _Did I? _I didn't fucking know. I dove for the pockets of my jeans, hoping that my wallet was in there. It was. Then I hoped that my backup was still in there. Luckily, it was too, and I pulled it out with a grin. Bella smiled, too, and sidled closer towards me.

I didn't have a fucking clue what was going on as she nudged my knees apart with her own, coming to stand between my legs, her hips in my direct line of sight. She glanced down to my lap and the condom in my hand, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you going to put it on?"

The cheeky gleam in her eye told me what was happening. She was going to tease me.

In reply, I glanced poignantly at her hands wrapped tightly around her breasts and the little pair of boy shorts sitting precariously low on her hips. I didn't need to say a thing. She understood.

Smiling, her eyes smoky and wide, Bella reached down to the waistband, her long hair falling just enough to cover her chest, and started slipping the little blue shorts down. She nodded to me to tell me to give in as well, but I could barely take my eyes off her. She was absolutely perfect. Just the way that she moved left me speechless. I could barely function in her presence.

But when Bella glanced up at me and raised an eyebrow, I tore open the condom packet and made quick work of it. When I was done she was standing there between my legs, completely stark naked and blushing a bright red. I lost my breath, and said the words before I could catch them.

"You're beautiful."

Bella smiled, but only just. A reservation was hiding itself behind her expression that she wouldn't let me see. Soon she started moving, positioning her knees on either side of my hips and hovering over me; sitting so that we were barely an inch from each other; so close that I could feel her heat radiating into me.

Bella placed her hands on my shoulders, steadying herself. My hands went to her hips in response, trying to help her. Bella smiled at my response, and leant forward to lay a small, sweet kiss on my lips; so small that it made me worry that she was having second thoughts.

"Are you sure?" I asked, feeling like there was something else I should have been saying.

Bella looked into my eyes. The deep, _deep _brown of her eyes shook me to the core. I couldn't speak as she watched me carefully, finding something that I couldn't identify; seeing something that startled us both. She didn't answer my question, but she did reply to my previous statement, leaning down to my ear as she lowered herself down onto me, her breath hot and steaming in the chilly air, gasping as we met and I filled her and she coated me.

"And you're crazy."

Her arms curled around my neck as she lowered herself down slowly, taking all of me in. I groaned out the pleasure of feeling her around me, throwing my head back as she began slow, steady movements up and down. I could barely restrain myself from bucking my hips faster.

Her slow pace was tantalising as she rode me, her hot, panting breath sending chills up my spine. My hands gripped the milky white of her thighs as she continued her rhythm, trying to hold it steady, making my pleasure bubble inside me.

Bella closed her eyes and let her hair fall around her cheeks, brushing against my chest as she continued her rhythm. Small gasps escaped her lips with every downward thrust, and I craved to kiss her plump lips and gasp with her.

Removing one hand from her thigh, I pulled her to me and kissed her slowly, our tongues entwining. Bella's pace faltered, and she yelped into the kiss, blush creeping over her cheeks, biting my bottom lip and tugging it ever-so-softly. I froze too, gasping in the broken movement, feeling her hot breath flood across my cheeks, trying to hold the pleasure for as long as possible, smiling at her yelp. Bella pressed her forehead to mine as she continued her movements, slow and steady and driving me absolutely crazy. Then, all of a sudden, her eyes opened. As soon as they did, I was lost.

I couldn't explain what I saw in her eyes then, but I couldn't look away. Neither of us could. Her deep, dark brown eyes were swimming in passion, the fire in her soul igniting as we moved together in perfect synchronisation. Sparks jumped between us, and I couldn't tear myself away from her beauty. I never wanted to lose that moment, because in it, I saw something else entirely. In it, something else was linking us together.

Our eyes stayed locked as she continued riding me, her pace always slow and steady and her breathing heavy and deep. As she came closer to climax her eyes became droopier; more lustful and dazed. But still, she wouldn't look away, and neither would I, and as our hands roamed over each other's bodies and we stayed linked together so tightly, something else entirely was forming.

When she finally spoke, her voice was barely audible, but it shook my soul and caved my heart.

"Jasper, I'm coming."

Bella dragged in a long, hard breath, her whole body shaking. I could barely restrain myself any longer.

"I need you," she said, making my heart flip as her eyes glazed over and her face shone. No cosmetics could imitate the glow of a girl's face before she climaxed. In that moment, Bella became a goddess.

Without hesitation, I pulled her lips to mine and enveloped her in a hot kiss, tasting her and being with her as we both hit our peaks, gasping with each other as we rode out the final part of our orgasms, almost as one.

:::

When we finished, Bella didn't rush off like she normally would. She didn't freak out and push me away and say that it was all wrong. Instead, we both went to clean ourselves off, and once we were done we settled down on the sofa to watch the rest of the movie. Neither of us said anything. It was almost like we were too scared to. Or we didn't need to. I didn't know. All I knew was that, after giving Bella one of my old t-shirts, she slipped on the shirt and her underwear as I slipped on my jeans, and she came to sit next to me on the sofa, her legs curled up underneath her as she leant into my chest. And strangely, it was what I liked. It was better than the sex. It was better than the orgasm. Just sitting there with Bella in my arms, listening to the sound of her breathing and feeling her heart beat against my chest, was exactly what I wanted. Curled up together, we were warm against the cold weather.

Sometime during the movie, Bella fell asleep. I didn't realise for a while, but once I did, I saw something else. Asleep was when she was at her most beautiful.

It must have been midnight by the time I noticed. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyelids were fluttering as she dreamed. I wondered what she was seeing, and wished that I could see it too. Her breathing was light and steady, and her hair lay in curls around her head. Lightly, I brushed her hair out of her face, trying not to wake her. When she smiled and spoke, I thought I had, and it frightened me the most.

"Jasper," she whispered, barely making a sound through her parted lips. I thought I was hearing things, but a few moments later, her voice came again. "I need _you_."

I wondered who she was talking to. I wondered what she was dreaming about. I wondered if she was saying it to me, or if she was talking about something else entirely.

"Bella, are you awake?"

The little smile didn't leave her expression. There was no reaction to my question. She soon fell back into a steady breathing pattern. I wondered for a moment if I _had_ been hearing things, until I remembered what Charlie had said all of those years ago.

_It had been a Sunday night when I got a text from him, which was more than out of the ordinary. As soon as I got it, I had thought something was wrong._

"_Jasper, how about a lesson tonight? Come around after six if you're up for it." – Charlie._

_I had been confused to begin with. Sunday was normally Bella-night. Family-night. It didn't make any sense. It also worried me. I suppose that was part of the reason why I went._

"_Sure. Sounds good." I sent in reply._

_At six thirty I arrived at Charlie's house on my bike, carrying my guitar on my back like an idiot. I had been a little shit of a kid, doused in leather and worn jeans, riding a motorbike and sporting a plaster over my eyebrow in an attempt to cover up my newly acquired piercing from three days before – my newest attempt to tell Carlisle to shove his cookie-cutter mould of the perfect Jasper up his ass. I remembered when Carlisle had asked me about it. I had told him it was a cut. He demanded to look at it and stitch me up. When I lied and told him it was from a broken bottle in a bar fight, he yelled at me for an hour and told me that I deserved for it to become infected, and that he wouldn't look at it. Maybe it would teach me a lesson._

_Huh. Yeah. Typical._

_Asshole._

_I knocked twice before standing back with an I-don't-give-a-fuck slouch. As soon as Charlie opened the door he was grinning and calling me out on my shit._

"_What's with the newest accessory?" he asked, nodding to the bandage. "What did you do – go and get a metal rod shoved through your eyebrow?"_

_I shrugged nonchalantly. It was still hard for me to wrap my head around the idea that Charlie was a cop that I could trust. "Something like that."_

_Charlie stepped aside with a grin. "Well, come in, then. How'd Carlisle take it?"_

_I walked through the door and straight in to the living room. "I'm not at Family Roast Night, if that tells you anything."_

_Charlie merely nodded. The brief look on his face startled me – it was like I had just punched him in the gut._

"_Get out your guitar, then," he said, changing the subject. "Let's get on to the lesson."_

_Lessons at Charlie's house could barely be classed as lessons. They were more of jam sessions, and an opportunity for Charlie to talk to me and try to set me on the straight and narrow. And, although I acted like a little shit sometimes, they were the one bright spark in my life at Forks. And, naturally, they were a secret. From everyone._

_I obliged, but carried on with the previous subject. "Speaking of Dinner Nights, don't you and Bella normally have a Family Dinner Night every Sunday?"_

_Charlie looked pained at the question. I couldn't figure out why, until he gave me the answer. The look in his eyes was excruciating._

"_Bella is with Edward tonight. She's – uh – at your house. For dinner. She was just invited this afternoon."_

_Fucking brilliant. Showed how much those people gave a shit about Charlie and me. We were both out of the loop of our respective families._

"_That's really shitty," I growled, adding another thing to the list of reasons why I didn't like Bella. Or Edward. Back in Forks, I had thought of them as mean, arrogant, prissy, perfect dick heads. Knowing that Bella would blow off her father to go to dinner with my fucking family was a big black mark in my book. _

_But then, Charlie said something that made me question everything I had ever thought of her._

"_You know, she's not normally like this – Bella. I mean…she never used to be. You would be surprised of what she used to be like. She just changed when she started dating Edward. It's to be expected, I suppose."_

"_Edward's an asshole. Anybody who can't see that is clueless," I spat._

_Charlie chuckled at my cruelty to my brother and Bella. I never understood how he could be so accommodating of my bad moods._

_The next thing Charlie said was the strangest of all, almost like he wasn't actually talking to me. It seemed that he was talking more to himself – trying to reassure himself of something._

"_You wouldn't guess it now, but Bella used to be a spirited young girl. She took after her mother a lot; passionate, hard to fathom, adventurous." The mention of Renee caused a look of pain to pass his expression. "She…she…uh…she had a fire in her soul that's hard to find, you know? Kind of like you. She had dreams and aspirations and eyes that saw beauty in everything. She…she has never been one of very many words, like you, but she was never afraid to speak her mind. She…she was special, Bella. She still is."_

_I didn't know what to say, so I kept silent. Charlie seemed like he was almost folding in on himself, watching memories playing in his mind like a broken record._

"_Did you know that she talks in her sleep? She does. She will tell you things that she would never say out loud, in her sleep. When she was a little girl sometimes I used to sit in the rocking chair in her room just to hear her talk. She…she used to say that she loved me. 'I love you, Daddy', she would say. She has never said it out loud, but back then it didn't matter, because I knew that she did anyway. When she was here, I couldn't sleep without hearing it. It…it was special. She was my little girl."_

_He looked towards the wall, almost whimsically. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything._

"_Of course, now she doesn't say that for me. Now she only loves Edward. She has…she has grown up."_

_Until I saw the pain in Charlie's eyes in that moment, I never knew that a father could care so much for a child._

_Charlie laughed then, although it wasn't a real laugh. It wasn't hearty. It was a feeble attempt to lift the tension. "Edward definitely did change her. I know that you wouldn't believe this, but you would have suited the old Bella better. I would have preferred that, actually."_

_Of course, he said this _before _my family completely fucked him over and ruined his life. I doubted whether it would still apply now._

_I shook my head. "Edward's perfect. No one could wish for a better boyfriend for their daughter," I spat, sarcasm dripping from everything I said. "Or, at least that's what everyone says."_

_Charlie laughed, but there was pain in his eyes. "You're worth ten of Edward, Jasper. You just have to see it."_

"_Bullshit," I claimed. I didn't believe it at all. I was a druggy with an attitude problem and shit grades. Edward was an asshole, but he at least had things going for him._

_Charlie shook his head. "Edward doesn't have your soul or your passion. And if he doesn't have it now, he will never have it. You have all of the potential. You just need to smooth out some of the kinks."_

"_Soul," I spat cynically. "That's crap. What do I have that he doesn't?"_

"_The attitude problem and the metal rod shoved through your eyebrow are perfect examples," Charlie laughed. "Guts. Bravery. Morals. A strong sense of wrong and right, even if you do get a bit lost sometimes. Your music."_

"_Yeah, right. Edward is a musician, too. Piano, remember? And most people would say that he has all of those qualities, and I have shit."_

"_Most people don't have a clue what they're talking about. And Edward is not a musician. He can play Piano, yes, but he doesn't have your creativity or passion that lets him make his own music or pave his own way. He's a carbon copy, drilled with notes and songs and the technicalities of music. You're the one with the real talent."_

_I scoffed, but something in me changed. Hearing someone have faith in me then was life-changing. But still, I knew that it wasn't true. I hadn't been able to make my own music in years. I had lost it. Charlie didn't need me to say that to understand that I was thinking about it._

_Charlie looked at me then, his eyes powerful and deep. There was so much wisdom in them that even five years later, I was shaken by the memory._

"_You will find it again," he promised me. "I know it. It's there. You just need the right thing to set it free."_

_That night, while I was in the bathroom, I heard him play "November Rain" for the last time that I knew him._

Right thing to set it free. Right thing to set it free. Those words danced around my head continuously as I sat there, holding Bella in my arms. _Right thing_.

Bella breathed deeply, shuffling around a little bit in my lap. The t-shirt she was wearing slipped up, revealing the soft skin of her waist, and a shiver ran through her body. She curled up tighter, trying to keep in the warmth, and muttered something incoherent. I didn't know what to do.

I didn't want to wake her. That was the last thing I wanted to do. It was well past midnight by that time, and trying to get her home would be hard. But I also knew that she wouldn't want to stay the night. Not really. She would fight it in the morning.

But I didn't care. Bella was freezing, and lying there in peace, her hair a mess and her body relaxed, she was the most beautiful I had ever seen her.

Standing up slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements, I got up from the sofa and bent down to pick her up. Her body was warm, pressed against my chest as I carried her to my room. She could have the bed. I would sleep on the sofa. I almost didn't want to set her down when I arrived at it, but I had to. She didn't stir as I laid her on the mattress and pulled the covers up to keep her warm. A small smile came again as I did so, and she whispered something that I couldn't catch, before falling back into her dreams. Part of me wanted to stay there and listen to her – hear what she had to say. But another part of me didn't want to, and wouldn't allow it. That was the part that was in control when I grabbed a blanket from the cupboard in the hall and went back to the sofa to let sleep take me.

:::

**Bella:**

I woke up to the sound of bucketing rain on the metal of the fire escape outside the window. I looked to the bedside table, where the clock read 9:00am. Curling further down in the blankets, I let out a sigh of relief. I had slept fantastically.

But when I pulled the covers up to my chin, something felt different. They weren't mine. These covers smelt like cinnamon and freshly cut grass and man. Suddenly, I was very awake, and looking around for a moment, I was at a complete loss as to where I was. Everything looked unfamiliar. But, a moment later, I remembered. I remembered skin on skin as a television buzzed in the background. I remembered looking into blue, _blue_ eyes and feeling something inside me shift. I remembered being unable to forget the emotions and focus on the physical. I remembered failing to cheapen the moment. I remembered him. I remembered rough hands and chapped lips and blue eyes.

That was when I realised what I had done. I had broken the rules – _so many _of the rules. And I hadn't been able to shake him and our conversation from my skin.

_Dammit_.

Quickly, I threw off the covers and leapt out of the bed. I didn't remember how I got there, but I let that slide. I looked around the room, trying to locate my clothes, but I couldn't spot them. I was in a panic. I needed to get out of there. It seemed like Jasper knew this, because soon the door to the bathroom was opened and he was standing there, a towel wrapped around his hips and his hair dripping wet. My heart was pounding like a jackhammer, panicking, but he merely smiled at me; cool, calm and collected.

"Morning," he greeted. "I heard you up. I was just taking a shower. Sorry."

I didn't know what to say. I couldn't go off at him. He wasn't doing anything, and he hadn't done anything. I was the one who had fallen asleep, clearly. He hadn't slept with me, clearly. He hadn't instigated our meeting that night, clearly. He hadn't done anything wrong. It was me. I was the idiot.

"Uh…morning," I replied, not knowing what else to say.

"Do you want some breakfast?" he asked then. There was some sort of knowing in his voice. He knew what I was thinking, and he wasn't going to fight it. It was almost like he accepted the inevitable.

"Uh, no," I excused. "I better get going. Thanks."

Jasper nodded. He wasn't going to put up a fight. It threw me.

"The shower's free if you want it. I think your clothes are still in the, uh, living room."

Jasper smiled nervously. I felt like my cheeks were on fire. To his surprise, I whipped off the t-shirt that he had loaned me and handed it back to him. Quickly, I covered my breast with my arms, mad with embarrassment but needing to remove all traces of him from my skin.

"Thanks for the shirt," I said quickly. Jasper didn't have time to react before I ran out the other door and straight into the living room.

I started searching for my clothes, and quickly located my bra and jeans. My shirt, however, was a different story, and just before I managed to pick it up I heard the front door being thrown open and foreign voices ringing through the house.

"Jasper! We're home! Get your lazy ass out of bed!"

I didn't know what to do. I wanted to dive for the door to Jasper's bedroom, but it was shut and my feet felt like they were frozen in place. I barely had time to grab my t-shirt and shield my breasts with it before two people carrying a backpack each walked into the room.

The girl was tiny, and had long white-blond hair and bright green eyes. Her lips were set in dissatisfaction, and her demeanour was strong and confrontational. The man was tall – as tall as Jasper – with shaggy brown hair and kind blue eyes. His demeanour didn't frighten me nearly as much.

I felt like an absolute idiot, standing there, nearly naked, looking like a deer caught in headlights, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. It seemed like no one spoke for hours. I hated it, and I desperately wished that the floor would just open up and swallow me whole. I should have realised that he would have roommates. I should have realised that they would be home. I should have realised not to parade around half naked. I should have not _been there_.

The tiny girl raised an eyebrow at me. She didn't seem judgemental; more interested – _amused_, even, and slightly pissed off. I felt like my cheeks were on fire as she spoke.

"Who are you?"

"Uh…I'm, uh…B–"

I went to answer, but was interrupted by the door to Jasper's room being thrown open. Jasper came out, dressed only in a pair of jeans, drying his hair with a towel. He didn't notice us at first, but as soon as the towel was down shock and realisation came over him.

"Peter. Charlotte." He looked at them, wide-eyed. Peter looked like he was on the edge of laughter. Charlotte raised a critical eyebrow, motioning to me. When Jasper followed her line of sight his eyes widened in surprise. He took in my near-naked self, his jaw clenching. "Bel–" he went to say my name, but stopped himself. There was a look in his eyes that made me very suspicious, especially after what he said next. "Izzy."

_Izzy?_ What the fuck?

I tried to catch his eye and ask him what the fuck he was on about, but he wouldn't look at me. My focus turned to the floor, wishing I could just disappear, as Charlotte looked from Jasper, to me, and back to Jasper, expectantly.

"So…" she prodded, glancing poignantly at me and turning to Jasper. "What is this, hmm?"

Jasper looked at her, and they shared a look that had so many undertones in it I couldn't even pick one to run with. It seemed like the two were having their own silent conversation.

"Charlotte," Peter tried to caution her, but she ignored him, keeping eye contact with Jasper.

Jasper glanced at me quickly – almost apologetically. I didn't have a clue what was going on. Suddenly, he put on a bit of attitude.

"I think it's pretty obvious, Charlotte," he growled. "And it's really _none of your damn business_."

They shared another look that made me nervous. Charlotte looked like she was about to rip his head off. Jasper had the set jaw and hard shell of a two year old.

"None of my _business_?" she spat. "Really, Jasper? I hate to remind you, but this is just as much my apartment as it is yours."

"Yeah, and I don't shove my nose into _your_ sex life," he pointed out.

Charlotte looked like she was about to snap. Peter suddenly wasn't so amused.

"What the hell are you doing, Jasper?" Charlotte asked then, her voice holding something deeper in it. "What the _hell_ is going on in your head?"

"Charlotte," Peter cautioned, but she ignored him and kept staring at Jasper, trying to break down his boundaries.

I turned to Jasper, interested about what answer he would give. Not to my surprise, he didn't say a thing. Instead, he turned to me, holding up his towel in front of me.

"Here, put your shirt on," he whispered. My cheeks felt like fire. I tried to catch his eye to see what he was thinking, but he wouldn't look anywhere but at the floor.

"Jasper," I whispered, so only he could hear. But still, he ignored me. Obliging, I did what he said and threw on the shirt in my hand, ignoring the bra.

Jasper let down the towel and stepped in front of me. Charlotte was still watching expectantly. Peter kept his mouth shut tight.

"So?" Charlotte demanded.

Jasper looked exasperated and furious. "Honestly, what do you want me to say?"

Charlotte looked like she was about to blow a fuse. "Oh, I don't know, Jasper. Maybe I would like you to explain to me what the _hell_ is going on in your _head_? First there was the drinking, and now you're bringing random girls home. You really think this is a good way to do it?"

Peter stayed quiet, as if he wanted to hear the answer too. Jasper looked hurt and pissed off and annoyed.

"Don't, Charlotte," he warned. "Not _now_."

"Then _when_, Jasper? Because you have yet to listen to me. And _hell_, I'm not going to let you fuck up, or God forbid, _catch _something from one of these _girls_." Charlotte glanced at me then. "Although, not you. I'm sure you're very nice," she said in passing. I wasn't worried. The thing that struck me the most was _one of these girls_. Plural. Meaning more than one. More than me.

"_Charlotte_, steady," Peter warned her.

Jasper glanced at me, worried, his shoulders tensing. I tried to smile to her in reassurance. Soon, her focus was back on Jasper.

"You can't just fill whatever fucking _void_ you feel with booze and girls. It _won't work_. You know that, because you've tried it before, and it fucked you up. So _stop it_."

I was shaken with surprise. I had never heard of this side of Jasper before, and it worried be more than ever. _One of these girls. One of these girls._

"Shut up, Charlotte," Jasper growled. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

I wanted to get out of there, fast. I didn't want to hear any more about his escapades. I just wanted to run away. No wonder he hadn't wanted us to be exclusive. He had other girls on the side, too. I should have known. And it shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. I knew that. But it still did.

I felt like I was about to cry. He was just using me. I was just _one of these girls_. And I had thought that I was his equal. Turns out, I was just one of many. He didn't even want his roommates to know my real name.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow at Jasper. He seemed to know where she was going before she went there. "What about the girl from a couple weeks ago, huh? You know; the one you wrote about. She got your fucking _music going_, and you're just throwing that away for anyone willing to give you a quick fuck? What is going on in your _head_?"

I didn't need any more of this. I couldn't deal with it. Quickly, I shuffled on my jeans as Jasper and Charlotte continued having their silent conversations. I felt like someone had kicked me in the gut. I felt like I was choking on a ball of cotton. I felt like I was about to cry. I knew that I hadn't wanted anything from this thing with Jasper, and I didn't, but knowing that I wasn't the _only one_ and that he hadn't told me that, hurt. If I was sleeping with anyone else, I would have at least had the decency to tell him and let him decide how he felt about it. I wouldn't have lied or kept secrets.

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" Jasper growled at Charlotte as I grabbed my bra from the floor. "Stay out of it."

I darted behind Jasper and started heading towards the door. I felt like a tramp, clutching my bra with one hand and my shoes in another, hanging my head of messy hair in shame. I didn't need to feel like that. I didn't need anyone who was going to _make me_ feel that. I didn't need to feel inferior. Enough people made me feel that way already. I didn't need it from Jasper.

"Wait, where are you going?"

Jasper's voice hit me. I felt like someone stabbed a knife into my back. Turning around and trying to hold back the tears that were bubbling in my throat, I refused to look at him.

"Home." I turned towards Peter and Charlotte then, trying to put on a kind face. "Nice to meet you. I'm sorry about…this."

Peter smiled apologetically. Charlotte nodded at me curtly. I kind of admired her for it. She may not have been the kindest person to me, but she had her reasons. She was looking out for Jasper as best she could. She was looking out for the people she cared for. She would even be rude to others to do it. I could admire that in her, at least. Jasper was lucky to have someone who cared about him that much.

Charlotte let me past, and I grabbed my coat from behind the door and slipped it on, shoving my bra into the pocket, feeling like complete and utter shit. As I opened the door, Jasper's voice hit me again like a bullet.

"No, wait, don't go. Please!"

I didn't look at him as I replied, shaking my head and refusing to let him in any more.

"Just don't, Jasper."

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><p><strong>Proudly Beta'd by LithiumReaper :D<strong>

**I'd love to see your thoughts on this one. Please do leave them in a review. Oh, and extra question:**

**Did anyone else see the new Harry Potter movie? What did you think? Oh jeez. I'm still fangirl-ing over it, and I watched it almost a week ago.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I own these words, but Stephanie Meyer owns the characters. I also own Jasper's original songs, but not the covers that someone else wrote.**

**This is where I thank my beta, LithiumReaper. Without her, this story would not be where it is. She's amazingly perceptive, that one.**

* * *

><p><strong>Jasper:<strong>

I was torn, and not between anything good. In fact, I was torn between the two worst possible situations _ever_; between chasing after Bella and trying to get her to understand that everything that Charlotte had just said was complete and utter shit and that she was the _only_ girl I had slept with since New Year's night and _she _was the one who made my music run, and telling Charlotte to shove every single thing she said up her ass and yell at her for screwing it all up.

Yes, they were the worst situations possible, because I didn't want to fuck up my relationship with Charlotte and I didn't want Bella to know how much she had actually _affected me_. That would only complicate us more. She didn't want anything from me but sex. If I told her, she would run away. But then, if I didn't, I would lose all of her.

Fucking hell.

I had hated seeing Bella standing there, taking every hit that Charlotte could throw with a hard heart. She shouldn't have had to put up with it. She _especially _shouldn't have had to deal with being treated like a second-class citizen while she stood there half naked. But before I could do anything, she was out the door and gone before I had time to blink. I could never understand how Charlotte could treat her like that. In fact, I had never understood how Charlotte could treat _anyone_ like that. She had been doing it for as long as I knew her. She was fiercely independent, ferociously loyal, and had the guts and mouth of a predator. If you got on the wrong side of her or went down a path she perceived as wrong, you could literally _feel_ her wrath. I knew that well. I was generally the receiver of it.

"Damn it, Charlotte, that was cruel," Peter scolded. Charlotte didn't give a shit. She just kept looking at me; testing me. I returned the anger.

"So, what is it, Jasper?" Charlotte asked expectantly.

"Char, stop it, seriously," Peter insisted. "This has gone too far. You two need to chill the fuck out."

Charlotte still didn't pay him any attention. One-minded, she expected me to reply to her bullshit.

"You're a fucking bitch, Charlotte," I told her, forcing my way towards the door. I wasn't going to just sit by and take that shit. Not this time. This time was different, because what she had said and what she had claimed had been completely off mark. I may have fucked up before, but this wasn't one of those times. Charlotte didn't even flinch. Peter looked like an angry lion after hearing me insult his girlfriend. I didn't even bother to put my shoes or a shirt on as I flung open the door and let it smash against the wall.

"Where are you going!" Charlotte demanded.

"Where the fuck do you _think_ I'm going?"

Charlotte was about to protest, but I didn't let her, slamming the door in her face. Then I took off down the hallway.

I took the stairs, racing down them four at a time. I couldn't even think about being stuck in an elevator, waiting to get to the bottom floor. I had to go as fast as possible. Seven flights of stairs later, I was finally bursting out of the ground floor staircase.

Bella wasn't in the lobby. As fast as I could, I ran out onto the street, searching desperately for her through the pounding rain. I took off to the left, running a few blocks down the road, ignoring the curious stares. Soon, my chest was constricting, and I had to turn around. Picking up my pace, I sprinted down the right end of the street, looking even harder, wondering whether I had taken the wrong turn. Still, I couldn't find her, and I felt like collapsing on the pavement in exhaustion.

"Son, are you alright?"

An elderly man approached me with an umbrella as I stood there in the rain, searching for Bella, his eyebrows knitted with worry. His concern shook me from my paranoid state and brought me back down to reality. _What the fuck was I doing?_ I probably looked insane. I was insane. And why the fuck would Bella want to talk to me even if I _did_ manage to find her? It was all quite illogical and idiotic.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine, I just…I'm fine."

The man looked at me questioningly. "Step under my umbrella. You must be freezing."

His kind brown eyes with the laugh lines around them reminded me a lot of Charlie. It made everything much, much worse.

"Oh, thanks, but that's okay. My apartment is just over there."

I pointed in the direction of the building. The man nodded, his eyes twinkling, and gave me a kind smile.

"Best get there, then."

He was right. There was no point in standing out in the middle of the rain. Bella was gone. I had to at least get dressed before I went looking for her again.

I threw the door to the apartment open, anger flooding through me. Charlotte had completely fucked it up, and I wasn't going to keep my distaste a secret.

Peter and Charlotte were already in the living room having an argument when I arrived. Both turned to me automatically. Charlotte looked pissed. Peter looked shocked. He knew that we were both going to go at it as soon as he saw the look in my eyes.

"I can't believe you fucking did that! Who the _hell_ do you think you _are_?"

Charlotte didn't even flinch as I yelled at her. That made me even angrier. I couldn't help it when I threw a punch at the wall, furious and needing an outlet for my anger. I wanted to hit something. I wanted to run and kick and scream and make my blood pound and my heart strain. I wanted to get it _out_.

"Oh, don't give me that _shit_, Jasper. You don't give a crap about her! You've _never _given a shit about _any _girl you've fucked!"

I didn't care how true that used to be. Bella wasn't just some other girl. I hated Charlotte, and I wanted to let her know just what a completely judgemental bitch she was being.

"You have _no idea_ how I feel, and the way you treated her was _nothing_ but cruel! I swear to God, Charlotte, I am _sick of your shit_. You're not my mother. You're not my boss. You're _just _my roommate. I swear I _will_ leave, without a second glance, if you _ever_ do _anything _like that again!"

Charlotte threw her hands in the air, exasperated, tears filling her eyes. She looked desperate, biting her lip and trying to make the words come out right. She almost looked pained or tortured.

"Damn it, Jasper, sometimes cruelty is the only way to get through to you! I've _tried _talking to you normally, but you _never fucking listen_. It's always the same. First you start drinking, then you start bringing a random girl home every other day, and then you _leave again_. And last time you left, we didn't see you for _three years_. I'm not going to let you do that again! I'm not going to let you tear this family apart _again_! Even if I have to hurt someone else in the crossfire, I will _do it_! You cannot keep _doing this to us_!"

Charlotte looked like she was on the edge of tears. Peter tried to soothe her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Charlotte shook him off, a shudder ripping through her, and shrank away from him. That hit me hard. Seeing her refuse _him_ was almost unnatural. But still, I didn't let it faze me. I was still seeing red and hating everything about her forceful, pig-headed, bitchy personality, even if the mention of family had gotten under my skin.

"You're _so quick_ to judge people!" I spat. "You _think _you know what's going on when you really have _no clue_! You're so set on the idea that I'm going to leave again that you've become a fucking _prison warden_. Leave. Me. Alone. And _never _talk to _anyone_ I know like you just did, or I swear I _will _leave, and not because I'm fucked up, but because _you _pushed me away!"

Charlotte looked absolutely terrified. Even Peter was frozen with shock. I couldn't hold back the anger flooding my veins.

"Jasper, you can't. This can't be about that girl – what was her name – _Izzy_! She's _just a girl_! You can't…Why do you give a shit?"

Typical. I felt like punching something again. I did, and I felt my knuckles crack as my fist hit the wall.

"She's not _just a girl_! She means more than any of the other girls, _ever_. And it's _not_ just about that! For fuck sake, Charlotte, don't you _get it_? I'm _sick _of the way you treat me – you _and_ Peter. You're so set on the fact that I might go off the rails that you forget to be my friends and let me actually _move on_! I can't take it anymore! And for fuck sake, my sex life has got _nothing to do with you_!"

Charlotte was stunned to silence. She was silent for an unnerving amount of time, just watching me. I knew what part she was picking up on.

"Why do you care about her that much? You can't seriously be that attached to a girl you barely know –"

That was when it hit her. Charlotte's eyes widened and her lips parted as she such sucked in a strained breath.

"She's the girl, isn't she? She's the one who made you start writing again, isn't she?"

Charlotte was stunned by the realisation. Peter looked thoroughly confused.

"Wait – _what_?" he demanded. "_Writing _again? As in actual _songs_, writing again? You're kidding me."

Charlotte was still silent. Peter was demanding an explanation. I didn't want to give them one.

I shook my head. I still wanted to be angry at her. I still wanted to yell at her and give her a piece of my mind. I didn't want to discuss this shit with her.

Instead of answering, I walked straight into my room and grabbed my duffel bag. I only had one idea of where to go, and so I started grabbing random clothes from my room and shoving them in there. I picked out a t-shirt from my drawer and threw that on, slipped on a pair of shoes, grabbed my wallet and my keys, tossed my bag over my shoulder, and headed back into the kitchen.

Charlotte and Peter were standing there watching me, wondering what I would do. When they saw the bag they both started freaking out.

"Wait, Jasper, dude, where are you going!" Peter called.

"Jasper, no, wait! You can't_ leave_! Please!"

I turned around to face them, seeing red. "For the last time, Charlotte, _quit_ trying to tell me what to do. I'm sick to death of it."

She looked pained, pleading with me with big, hurt green eyes. "But…but please, Jasper, don't go. Not yet. We can't…we can't lose you."

I almost laughed at the thought. "You're not fucking _losing me_, damn it."

"But then where are you going!" she demanded.

"Away for a few days. I _need_ to get out of here."

Before either of them could reply I threw open the door and slammed it shut behind me.

:::

I couldn't go and find Bella. Why? Well, simply, because I had nowhere to look. I didn't have her number. She had mine. I didn't know where she lived. She only knew where I lived. She instigated our meetings. She had the power to appear and reappear as she wished. I just waited, like some wide-eyed prepubescent boy waiting for the angel of his dreams to come swooping mysteriously back into his life. I had no control over her. The mystique of it was intoxicating, but when it came down to issues like this, it was torture. The only thing I knew was where she worked, and she wouldn't be there on a Saturday morning.

When Garrett came to answer the door he was groggy and sleepy-eyed. It was understandable. It was probably only ten in the morning, and no doubt he had been out the night before. But at that moment, his sleep schedule was the last thing on my mind.

When he realised who I was you couldn't ignore the surprise on his expression. "Jasper. What are you doing here?"

"I need a place to crash for a few days. Can I stay with you?"

Shaggy-haired and still coming to grips with being awake, Garrett nodded and stepped aside. "Make yourself at home. Couch is yours."

"Thanks, man."

Garrett led me into the lounge and indicated where I could throw my bag down. The good thing about Garrett's place was that he lived alone. I wouldn't have to deal with any more fucking roommates. The other good thing was that Garrett was easy going. If I needed a place to stay, he would let me, no questions asked. He knew when to speak and when to stay quiet and mind his own business, unlike a lot of people I knew.

"Tough time?" he asked, heading towards the kitchen, as I sat down on the couch.

"Roommate troubles," I said simply.

Garrett let out a short laugh. "Huh. Exactly why _I_ don't have them."

Perfect.

"Thanks for letting me crash here. I will be out of your hair in a few days."

Garrett shrugged nonchalantly and poured himself a glass of orange juice. "Not a problem. Stay as long as you need. Food is in the fridge, bathroom is down the hall. You know the drill. Make yourself at home."

Garrett walked back to his bedroom, and I slouched down onto the couch, mentally kicking myself for fucking everything up so badly. If I told Bella what the hell was going on, I would lose her. But if I didn't, I would still lose her. Either way, _I was fucked._

:::

**Bella:**

Once I was out of the door, I took off at a run down the hallway. I may have tried to keep my composure in the apartment, but once I was out the tears fell hard and my blood pumped heavy. I ran straight to the elevator, slamming the call button mercilessly. I was impatient, tapping my foot as the elevator groaned its way up seven stories. I was standing there for all of five seconds – although it felt like five hours – when a door behind me was opened and a familiar voice greeted me.

"Bella! Oh my gosh, what are you doing here?"

I turned around, spotting a pretty, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, petite girl standing in the doorway down to the stairs, wearing gym gear and carrying a handbag.

"Lucy," I said, breathless, embarrassed as hell. "You – uh – what?"

Lucy was my co-worker – a pretty, popular nineteen year old studying Music Technology at Seattle University. She had stars in her eyes and a rich daddy backing her every move. And seeing her that morning, when I was feeling even worse about myself, was absolute crap.

Lucy smiled and stepped forward. "I just got back from the gym. What are you doing here?"

"I – uh…"

I was stunned to silence. I didn't have a story, and I didn't want to tell her the truth. Luckily, Lucy was talkative enough to not wait for an answer.

"You should come into my apartment! Have a coffee with me – or, uh, a tea. You might be sick of coffee." She giggled uncontrollably at that. "I feel like I haven't talked to you for ages!"

Still flustered, I nodded, and was soon dragged down to the end of the hallway, Lucy's little hand gripping my wrist tight.

Lucy's apartment was amazing. For a nineteen year old student working her way through school, she definitely had it made, with the latest appliances and styles to decorate her home. As soon as we were inside she took my coat, hung it up, dropped her bag on the counter and flipped on the kettle.

"What do you want? I'm having a green tea. It's _so _delicious, and it makes me feel a treat after a workout. Would you like one? It has camomile in it!"

I nodded mindlessly and slid into one of the black swivel chairs. I had never heard someone get so excited about camomile before.

"So, Bella, how have you been? I feel like I haven't seen you for _ages_!"

"I saw you at work yesterday," I reminded her.

"Oh yeah, but _a lot_ has happened since then," she giggled as she placed a teabag in each cup and poured hot water over them.

_Tell me about it_, I thought bitterly.

"Oh really?" I asked. Those two words were enough to set her off on a long ramble about how she spent the few hours we were apart.

"Well, as you must remember, I left early. So, to kill time, I went to campus and worked a bit on my assignment – which is going fantastically, by the way." Lucy grinned. I smiled too and blew on my tea, trying to cool it down before diving in to try it. "When I came home – it must have been about six by this time – I was walking through the lobby and…" her voice trailed off, her perfect cheeks going bright pink with blush. It made me self-conscious. When I blushed, I looked like a blotchy tomato. When she blushed, her blood pooled all cute and perfect in the middle of her cheek. "…and I met the _cutest_, most _gorgeous _guy on the planet."

_Oh Jesus Christ, this is the last thing I need to hear about_, I thought cruelly. I was being bitchy. I was. I knew that. But I was feeling like complete and utter shit and I didn't need to hear about any fairy tale romances from perfect-Lucy.

"That's great," I encouraged, trying to smile. My cheeks were tense from dried tears. I doubted whether she had even noticed.

Lucy took a long drink from her tea, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"He was absolutely _beautiful_. Kind of…rough and tumble, you know? But still absolutely gorgeous. He wasn't the pretty type that I usually go for, but he was just so…rough and… and _gorgeous_. And when he smiled I almost _died_. I walked straight into him, see, and I dropped my bag. Without a second thought he dove down and picked it up for me and _oh_, it was so nice. But he was smoking, which was really gross, I have to admit. It killed the moment a bit. But still, he was _gorgeous_."

_You've said that_, I snapped to myself.

"He lives in this building, I think. I've seen him before. He didn't move in very long ago. But whenever he sees me he smiles at me. He's so…pretty. He lives just down the hall, actually."

That was when my heart sunk. Desperately, I hoped she wasn't talking about who I thought she was talking about.

"He apologised to me, and it was so lovely. And he was so…_casual_. He wore paint-stained clothes, which was a bit of a turn-off, but still…_endearing_, you know, like he doesn't care what people think about him. And he had fucking _sex hair_, Bella. _Sex hair_."

Oh Christ. My heart felt like it was about to jump out of my chest. Yes, I knew who she was talking about. Kind heart, paint-stained clothes and a heart-hammering smile. That was Jasper down to a T.

Gulping down the lump in my throat with a burning mouthful of tea, I tried to speak through a dry, raw throat.

"Sex _what_?" I sputtered.

Lucy giggled, not looking at me, her blue eyes glazed over and staring out the window longingly. I thought for a moment that they both suited each other. They were both blonde, blue-eyed, beautiful people with hearts of gold. Or at least I _thought_ Jasper had a heart of gold.

Somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach I hoped to hell that she wasn't going to fall in love with him. I didn't want her to get hurt. Lucy was a sweet, hare-brained dreamer with her eyes on the sky. She was a lot like my mother in that way. If she fell for a guy who hurt her, she was the kind of girl who would have it destroy her life. And even though I had only been sleeping with Jasper for a little while, and was a long way away from falling in any sort of love with him, I had still been hurt, and it had made me feel like my stomach had been wrenched from my body. Jasper was the kind of guy who could make you feel attached, and no matter how small that attachment was, when you lost it, it would hurt like hell. Some people would call it an addictive personality. He had it in high school – even though he was bad news, you were drawn to him – and I hoped that Lucy wouldn't fall for it and get hurt. She was too young for that; too innocent.

And I was blowing things out of proportion a lot, but that was what I felt. There was a very thin line you could walk with Jasper between enjoyment and infatuation. I just really hoped she didn't topple over it only to have her heart broken. And although I hadn't had my heart broken as such and I had brought it on myself by agreeing to the 'not exclusive' rule, and had hardly any right to be angry. But, I was still hurt. I didn't want Lucy to feel that.

"Sex _hair_," Lucy enunciated. "Like, you know, when it's all unruly and shaggy and fucking _sexy_ – when it looks like they've just had sex. Perpetual sex hair is like the _biggest _turn-on. It's kind of like yours is now." Lucy broke down into a fit of giggles at that sentence. "Of course, yours is _not_ turning me on, but you know what I mean! Messy and curly and shaggy and _sexy_!"

Oh fucking hell. I could barely deal with this.

"I just don't have a clue how to kick something off with him! I mean, I tried to talk to him yesterday, but he said he was in a hurry and rushed off! How am I supposed to get things moving if I can't get him to talk to me?"

_You could make it blatantly obvious that you like him. He seems to gravitate towards that_, I thought bitterly.

Desperately, I jumped off the seat, trying to make an excuse to get out of there. My cruel internal monologue was driving me insane. It wasn't healthy to sit there and soak in my juices. I had to get the hell _over it_ and move on.

"Listen, Lucy, I have to go. I'm really sorry. My roommate and I are…going out. Today. Soon. Um…with the guy…just…talk to him. But take it slow. I'm sure that you two will – uh – get on great. Just don't…overthink it."

With that, I practically ran out of her apartment before she could say a thing.

:::

I got home before Angela woke, still sleeping deeply after a big night. I rushed into my room, my breathing laboured, desperately trying to get my head together. Slamming the door shut, I leant against it, trying to catch my breath and my thoughts; trying to actually make sense of everything that was going on. After a few moments of refusing tears, I pushed down the sick feeling in my gut, and moved on.

I didn't want to go to work on Monday. Some sort of illogical morose feeling had come over me. I felt like a gutted fish, floating aimlessly. But, most of all, I felt over-dramatic and idiotic. And I hated feeling that way. I shouldn't have felt that way. But sometimes feelings are things you cannot control, no matter how hard you try.

When I arrived at work Lucy was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Only when she actually spoke to me did I actually realise _why_. The revelation made that sick feeling bubble up again.

"Bella!" she squealed, rushing up to me with a wide grin as I came through the door. It was barely seven in the morning. I couldn't understand how anyone could be so energetic at seven in the morning. "Bella, we're getting the painters in today!"

Damn it. I had forgotten about that. The boss had told us last week, but it had slipped my mind completely. Most of the shop had wooden walls, apart from the back wall. The boss was having the old royal green painted over with a musky, woody blue. It was a much needed paint job and he thought it suited better, and although I had my apprehensions, I accepted it gladly. The old green paint was fading and cracking. It needed a change.

Still, I didn't really understand why she was so excited about painters.

"Great," I smiled politely.

Lucy's expression suddenly straightened. She saw how unimpressed I was.

"You didn't look at the truck outside, did you?"

"No. Why?"

"_He's_ the painter! _Him_ – the guy I was telling you about! He's a _painter_! _That_ explains the paint-splattered clothes!"

Lucy dissolved into a fit of blushing giggles. I was shocked to numbness. That was the absolute _last _thing I needed. The world seemed absolutely _set_ on throwing Jasper and I together at the most inopportune times.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, unable to hold it in, and Lucy frowned.

"What?"

"Nothing," I recovered quickly. "Is…is _he_ here?"

Lucy nodded enthusiastically, her mind on other things, not noticing my reaction. "Yes! He has a friend, too, and the friend is _quite _good-looking. Of course, I don't like him, but you might!"

No. No fucking way.

I didn't answer. Lucy didn't mind.

"What should I do, Bella? Gosh, I'm so nervous! What should I _do_?"

I couldn't answer. I couldn't string together any sort of coherent sentence. Then, when the door behind us was thrown open, I jumped, and felt a chill crawl up my spine.

"Uh, hey, we're the painters."

That voice was foreign. I knew it wasn't Jasper, but I was too scared to turn around and see who it really was. I was locked in spot, and so Lucy looked towards our visitor, plastering on a wide, friendly, beautiful smile, before skipping over to him.

"Hi! Yes, of course, I'm Lucy. And you are?"

"Garrett."

"Hi, Garrett. Uh, that's Bella. Welcome, I suppose."

"Thanks," Garrett said. "Uh, I have some paperwork to go over with you. Is there anywhere we could sit while my co-worker brings in the gear?"

Lucy nodded like a bobble head. "Yes, yes, of course. Let's take a table."

Lucy led Garrett over to a table at the side of the shop and started going over the paperwork. I still hadn't moved an inch, but when the door squeaked open again and I was hit with a chilly breath of air, I refused to look around and high-tailed it to the counter.

"Bel–"

Even hearing a small amount of his voice killed me. I _really_ did not need this right now.

When I reached the counter I grabbed the cleaning spray and a rag and started wiping it down, scrubbing the surface violently, trying to get out my frustration. I heard him place the paint cans down and start walking back towards the door. I could feel his eyes on me as he walked away, and I refused to meet them.

The whole situation was incredibly tense. Jasper continued walking paint cans and rollers and sheets in, trying to catch my attention. Lucy kept peering over the top of the paperwork, trying to catch Jasper's attention. And I kept scrubbing at the counter mercilessly, refusing to let _anyone_ catch my attention.

After about five minutes, Jasper was finished, and so were Lucy and Garrett. Straight away, Lucy headed over to Jasper to introduce herself. I was surprised and shaken when Garrett appeared in front of me.

"Hi. Uh – Bella, right? Nice to meet you. I'm Garrett."

Flustered, I nodded. "Yeah, Bella. Hi. Good to meet you."

Garrett smiled kindly. "Could you just sign here, please, next to Lucy's signature? It's just to confirm we are here. Bureaucracy and shit."

Garrett gave me that cheeky grin that said that he wasn't a big fan of bureaucracy and shit. I returned with a smile and signed quickly.

"Great. Thanks. We'll keep out of your hair. Promise."

"That's fine," I reassured him nervously.

Garrett headed away towards Jasper and Lucy. Lucy was leaning against the wall as Jasper knelt down to mix paints, giggling and smiling all cute-like. Jasper seemed to be lapping it up, too. Asshole. She was just a baby.

I didn't notice, but I was staring at the two quite coldly. When the bell on the counter rang Jasper turned to me quickly, surprised. Lucy wasn't aware of the noise at all. And when Jasper's eyes met mine, my heart jumped into my throat and I turned away immediately.

Standing in front of the counter with her little arms folded was a young girl, not ten years old.

"Cappuccino, please," she requested, speaking with a proper English accent. "It's for my mother."

Taking the little girl's money, I made the coffee and readied myself for a busy Monday morning, acutely aware of Jasper's presence in the room and wishing that he would just _disappear_.

:::

**Jasper:**

When I found out we were painting the coffee shop, I tried to pull a sick day. I tried anything I could think of to get out of it. Being in the same room as Bella for the entire day while we both tried to work and hide the fact that shit was going on between us would be damn near impossible. Not only that, but I was the last person that Bella wanted to spend any sort of time with, and although I wanted to fix what was wrong with us, I didn't want to do it in the workplace and practically force myself on her.

When I arrived, Bella was dead set on ignoring me. I was okay with that. After trying to get her attention to show her that I hadn't _planned_ this, I realised that she didn't want a bar of it. So I stopped. Or at least I tried to. Her little blonde, overenthusiastic co-worker was set on hounding me, and as I watched Bella, she was furious at this. I could only guess about what she was thinking; _Don't go near him. He'll hurt you. Jasper, you're such an asshole. Leave my friend alone_.

Yeah. I knew what Bella would be thinking, and I tried to brush Lucy off with indifference, but she wasn't having a bar of it. She was set on talking about our _apartment building_, of all things. Apparently we lived in the same building. I didn't know how she knew that, but it wasn't exactly a pleasing realisation.

Eventually, Lucy left, and Garrett and I could finally get to work. My eyes couldn't stay off Bella as we started stripping the old green paint from the wall. Desperately, I wanted to apologise to her. But just as desperately, I didn't want her to know that _she_ was the one I wrote about. It was a predicament, and having her in the room and knowing that the issue could flare up at any moment was hell.

When Garrett started talking to me through his face mask, my mind was only half in what he was saying.

"Lucy seems to like you, Jasper," he chuckled. "She seems very…enthusiastic."

"Yeah."

"And she knows where you live, too. She's definitely interested."

"Lucky I'm staying with you then, huh?"

Garrett turned to me, stopping mid-scrape, and raised an eyebrow. "She's cute though; long blonde hair and blue eyes. Perfect."

"I prefer brunettes."

"I bet she'd be like a rabbit in the sack."

Great. How _fucking_ appealing.

"You're welcome to take her from me."

"She's not my type."

"You have a type now?"

He turned to me again, pissed but amused. I grinned like a child. "Funny, Whitlock. Just do your damn work."

Garrett went back to peeling the paint, and soon I found my eyes shifting over to Bella. She was standing behind the counter, making coffees as Lucy took orders. The steam from the coffee machine was giving her this odd, beautiful pink glow, and the smell of freshly ground beans was enticing. She moved freely and unreservedly behind the machine. She lost all of her apprehensions and self-conscious attributes. She seemed free when she thought that no one was looking at her; when she was dancing in her own mind, her hands working like a piece of art. It was beautiful, really.

After about two hours the busy time drew to a close and few people were coming through the door. That was when Bella grabbed a rag and antibacterial spray and went to clean the tables. She worked quickly, but this time she seemed tense, out in the open where any eyes could be on her. Including mine. I was making her uncomfortable. So, reservedly, I looked away and continued my own work.

Within a few moments of me turning away from Bella, Lucy appeared by my side, smiling brightly. I dropped my scraper to my side and pulled the mask away from my face, dropping it around my neck as I turned to her.

"Can I help you?"

Lucy looked honoured. "Can I get you boys a drink or anything?"

I turned to Garrett. He was peeling his mask away from his smirking face, placing it on top of his head.

"What?" he asked.

"Do you want a drink? I can make you anything."

I looked to Garrett. He smiled cheekily, politely turned her down, and put his mask back on. Lucy was still waiting for my answer.

"Uh, no, thanks, I'm good. I think I will keep on working at this. We can get it done quickly for you and get out of your hair."

Lucy looked worried. "Oh no! No, that's fine! We like having you here! Right, Bella?"

Lucy turned to her friend for backup. Bella was startled out of her rhythm. When she looked at us, I couldn't make out any emotion in her expression.

"Uh yeah, right," she dismissed, not even knowing what we were talking about. I looked at her for a few moments longer, trying to figure out what she was thinking. She refused to pay attention.

Lucy turned back to me and smiled. "So, what are you doing?" she asked, nodding towards Garrett scrapping the paint.

"Getting rid of the old stuff. It makes the painting easier and longer lasting."

Lucy looked thoroughly intrigued, although I couldn't imagine why. Painting was boring as shit. The only good part was at least this wall wasn't _beige._

"Cool! So, how did you get into painting? Did you always want to be a painter? Are you artistic at all?"

This girl was way too enthusiastic. _Way_ too enthusiastic.

"Uh, no. No way. I just…fell into it."

"_Fell _into it? How is that? How do you _do _that?"

You've got to be kidding me.

"Well, did you always want to work in a coffee shop?"

Lucy looked insulted at the thought. "No! _Gosh_, no! Who would want to do this as a career? No, I just found the listing in the paper. It's a part time job for while I'm in college."

"So you just found it, and it suited. Same with me and this job."

The epiphany hit her. When I saw her big, naïve eyes widened, I had to backtrack a little bit.

_Did she say college?_

"Wait, Lucy, how old are you?"

Lucy grinned and flicked her hair away from her face. "Nineteen, just a few months ago."

Oh fucking hell.

Garrett heard, and he coughed and spluttered and tried to hide his laughter. There were even tears in his eyes from the apparent hilarity of it. Lucy frowned at him, worried that he was choking on something. I felt like kicking him in the shin. I did just that – subtly, of course, so Lucy, with her oblivious eyes, never noticed when Garrett sent me a glare.

Nineteen. Nine-fucking-_teen_. _Teen_. She was still a fucking _teen_.

That has to be illegal.

"Nineteen," I enunciated, hearing the number buzz around my head like a fly. I remembered nineteen. That was a bad fucking year. I also remembered who I was at nineteen, and who I was at that moment. I fucking hated myself at nineteen. I couldn't deal with another one. "Nineteen. _Teen_. Teens. Wow. Huh."

Lucy looked very worried. "Is there something wrong?"

"You're still a teen."

"I'm _nine_teen. That's barely a teenager."

"Nine_teen_," I repeated.

Lucy blushed. She thought I was just saying it for shits and giggles.

"Stop it," she chimed, pushing my arm. "It's not that bad."

Oh Christ. Flirting. _Abort mission._

I brought my scrapper back to the wall. "Listen, Lucy, I think you better let me get back to work. Garrett's pulling all the weight over there, and we've got to get this done."

Lucy giggled, nodded like a bobble-head and trotted back to the counter. Catching Bella's eye, I noticed that she was _very_ unimpressed. When I went back to work, Garrett pulled his mask away to speak. I shut him up before he had a chance.

"_Don't_ even try it."

Garrett laughed, held his hands up in surrender, and turned back to his work with a big smirk.

:::

When lunchtime rolled around I was quick to head out the back to the truck to grab my sandwich and water bottle. Garrett unlocked the back and we sat in the open tray, munching on our food in silence. The tension had been thick in the shop. I think it was even thick to the point of Garrett noticing that something was up. Bella refused to talk to me, Lucy wouldn't leave me alone, and Garrett was stuck watching the whole show play out. When Lucy had talked to me, Bella looked like she was about to bite my head off. When Lucy wasn't talking to me, Bella went back to her usual self. There was something magical about her when she thought that no one was watching.

Being around the two for so long, I realised something explicitly different between Lucy and Bella. Lucy was upfront. She was direct. You didn't have to guess with her, because you knew what she was thinking. She darted around like a hummingbird with a bright smile and a kind heart. She was pretty and perfect and equally wonderful. She was kind. She was young, and unsullied or bruised or damaged. She was light. She was the sun. She smiled and greeted people, and before she even said a word you knew everything about her. She was dreamy and predictable and naïve.

But Bella wasn't anything like that. Bella was midnight blue. She moved with grace and invisible presence, like the wind. When she interacted with people, she wasn't really there. She was closed in on herself, watching something else entirely; seeing something that none of us could see. She wasn't demanding of attention like Lucy was, but in a way she subconsciously attracted it anyway. In a way, she attracted it more than Lucy, because when you watched her, you were caught up. You were caught up in the way she moved, the way she talked and the way she looked. She was like the wind, or the water, or the moon. She was like midnight. And she was enticing – more enticing than any other girl I had known.

Garrett was still munching on his sandwich when I picked up the old guitar lying in the tray, enjoying it quite thoroughly. He didn't even glance at the guitar, completely used to my random strumming in the lunch break, and went on smiling as he took a large bite. My playing was smooth and plucky, without a steady rhythm, grooving and hypnotic, Hendrix style. Without putting any thought into it, I started humming the words that were in my head, and even though the rhythm was choppy, I felt it in my bones; the words just _came_, like they were born that way.

_She's just a night-bird,  
>Oh baby, she's a night-bird,<br>Bluesy streaks in the midnight sky.  
>She's just an angel,<br>Oh baby, she's an angel,  
>Flying on through the deep blue sky.<br>She's an angel,  
>Oh baby, she's an angel;<br>An angel with stolen wings who wants to fly.  
>My Papa, oh he told me once,<br>"Son, you can't keep what you can't catch."  
>But Papa, oh Papa, I want to know<br>"When can my angel be mine?"  
>My Papa replied to me, his voice a shade of grey<br>"Son, you can't catch your angel today.  
>Your angel, she's born to fly away.<br>Ask her once, tame her sweet.  
>But son," he said, "your angel has to fly her own way."<em>

Sometime during my strumming Garrett left and headed inside to the bathroom. I barely noticed, and once he was gone I stopped humming and started singing under my breath. I didn't know how much time had passed before I heard the backdoor open and close again. When it did, a weird feeling hit me. Garrett wasn't back. Someone else was.

My hands froze and I turned towards the door. Back near the wall was Bella, a trash bag in her hand, caught like a deer in headlights. Slowly, my hands started moving again.

As soon as I spotted her Bella ducked her head and headed towards the trashcans against the alleyway wall. Dully, my fingers plucked soft chords, and Bella looked tense as she walked, dropped the bag into the can, and headed back past the truck.

She wasn't going to say a word, and for some reason, that wouldn't settle well with me. So as she walked past, I spoke.

"Bella."

Bella stopped in her tracks and turned. "What?"

I didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry."

Her expression didn't change. Some sort of acceptance had settled over her. "For what?"

"Everything."

She glanced away from me, her eyes on the ground, and changed the subject. "What were you playing just then?"

"I don't know."

"Where did it come from?"

I didn't know, so I didn't answer. Bella understood.

"It's yours, isn't it?"

I nodded.

"You're very talented," she acknowledged.

I didn't agree. "Only when inspiration strikes."

Bella gave me a small smile. "Whoever she is, you should keep her around."

"Who?"

"The girl who Charlotte was talking about – the one who makes you play."

I saw a flash of some hurt in her eyes. I didn't want her to feel that. "Bella, no, I –"

"It's okay, Jasper. Really. It's fine. I get it." She shrugged, kicking at a pebble on the ground and missing completely. "You didn't break any rules, right? I just kind of wish you had told me, you know? It just…it just wasn't nice to find out like that. That's all."

No. No. No. I didn't want her to think that. I didn't want her to feel like that. No.

"Bella, there was no –"

I went to explain, but a loud slamming of the door interrupted me. Bella swivelled around like lightning. My eyes flashed up to our visitor, my hands skidding to a stop. Lucy was there, and with a wide smile she bounded over to us, her eyes alight.

"Jasper! There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Lucy came over to the tray and hoisted herself up next to me. My eyes went to Bella. She was shrinking away, her arms folded around her chest, blushing in embarrassment. Lucy noticed me noticing her.

"Oh, Bella! I didn't see you there! What were you two talking about?"

Bella looked to Lucy, and then to me. I looked at Bella. Neither of us had even started to make an excuse before Lucy bounced to a new topic.

"Oh, is that a guitar? Do you play? That is so cool, Jasper! Play me something! Oh please, would you?"

I looked to Lucy, shocked. Bella shrunk even further away as she hung off my arm, tugging like a child.

"Lucy, I don't think –"

Lucy wasn't having a bar of my protest. "Oh, go on, Jasper! _Please?_"

I looked from Lucy's blue eyes to Bella. Bella smiled weakly, almost in acceptance, but there was sadness in her eyes. Then, she nodded.

"Go on," she encouraged, although there was no soul in it.

Sighing, I plucked a few chords, and sang the first song that came to mind.

"_Where it began, I can't begin to know when, but then I know it's growing strong…"_

Lucy gripped my shoulder tight, and leant into me. I hated the intrusion into my personal space – especially when I was trying to play – and wanted to shake her off my skin. Bella stood back, listening kindly, and after barely half a minute I stopped, unable to keep playing.

Bella simply smiled. Lucy acted like the whole world had changed.

"Wow! You are _so _good! That is _amazing_! You should go professional!"

Oh fucking hell.

I laughed. "Ha, no, it's not that great. Really."

"No, no, it really is! My father is a record producer, and I reckon he would _kill _to sign you!"

Bella shrunk back even more at the offer.

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm not! I'm studying Music Technology at college. I would _kill _to produce someone like you. You should give me a CD or something and I'll get my Dad to have a look at it. He owns a record company!"

Wait. Stop. Back up.

"_Music Technology_? What the fuck is that?"

Lucy laughed like it was some sort of joke.

"I'm basically studying to become a producer. We learn the technicalities of music – about recording and producing and things – you know, so I can work in my Dad's label."

The _technicalities _of music? To me, music wasn't a technical subject. It was about soul. The thought of the _technicalities _of music dampened it.

"You need a degreefor that?"

Lucy looked shocked. "Well, no, but I want it."

Right.

"So, do you play anything then?"

At that moment, she looked shocked, as if that was a joke too. "_Play?_ Oh gosh, no! I don't have a musical bone in my body! But you don't need that to be a producer. I know how to make things sound good."

Oh.

"That's great."

Lucy grinned, and then practically elbowed me in the ribs in an attempt to be playful. That was when Bella turned to leave, her expression something terrible.

"So, you should definitely give me a CD and I'll see if my Dad would be willing to sign you!"

I tried to smile. "Thanks, Lucy, but I'm not really interested in that. I just play for fun."

"But you're really good! You can't waste that talent!" she claimed.

"Really, Lucy, it's fine. But thanks. I better get back to work."

Quickly, I placed the guitar back under cover and darted for the door Bella had disappeared through. I caught her in the back room, calling her name and making her stop.

"Bella, wait!"

She turned to me slowly, controlled. "Yes?"

"That's not anything. You know that, right?"

She looked confused. "Jasper, I wouldn't mind if it was."

"But it's not."

"Okay."

"I don't want to sign with anyone, either."

"But she's right. You're talented."

"I don't want to sign with anyone. I'm not a musician."

Bella gave me a look that said she knew far more than I did. "Just be nice to her. She's young. Don't hurt her."

_What?_

"What are you talking about? There's nothing there, Bella."

"It's none of my business whether there is or isn't," she answered, shrugging, before she walked into the front room to serve a customer.

:::

**Bella:**

Jasper could play. Jasper could _really_ play. I had seen it when he played _November Rain_, but at that moment, I realised that he could really play his _own_ music. He could make it. He was talented. More than talented, actually. And for a moment it tugged at my heart, because my father had been talented, too, and he had spent his life being talented, but not taking it anywhere, and instead suffered through a lifetime of heartbreak. The reminder hurt, and as much as I was annoyed at Jasper, I didn't want that for him, and for a moment I thought that we might have reached an understanding.

But Lucy was interested in Jasper, and she was throwing herself at him, and I worried for her because I didn't want her to get hurt, but I also worried for him because he didn't seem to want it, and I was also hurt and a little pissed off and I didn't want to see them flirting in front of me. But then he didn't show any interest in her, and I didn't want her to get any more emotionally invested, but his playing had softened my attitudes towards him, and everything was very, _very _confusing. And as I worked that afternoon, serving customers, I couldn't get my head around how I felt. I hated Jasper for lying, but then he had never really lied, and he hadn't broken any rules, and it was all very complicated.

When Lucy cornered me in the backroom in the mid-afternoon, I already knew what was coming before she said anything.

"What's going on with you and Jasper?" she asked, her hands on her hips.

"Nothing," I lied. "Why?"

"Well, because you two were outside together and…I want to know why."

Her expression was serious, but she still had that flighty look about her that she never seemed able to shake. "We were both taking a break at the same time. It's no big deal."

"So you don't like him?" Lucy demanded.

_Like_ him? What were we – in sixth grade?

"No."

"Oh, okay, good!" she giggled. "That's great! If you had, that would have been _awkward_."

I smiled. "No chance of it."

Lucy was satisfied with my claim. "Great! So, anyway, what do you think of him? I mean, I think he's amazing, but you haven't told me what you think!"

"He's – uh – _nice_," I sputtered.

"_Nice_? Jeez, Bella, don't hold back," she chided.

I didn't want to say it, but I couldn't help it. My protective instincts were going into overdrive. "Well, I mean, I just want you to be careful. That's all."

"_Careful?_ About _what_?" she demanded.

"Well…uh…I mean…you're just young, and Jasper is older, and…I don't want you to get hurt. You know how guys can be. He could be a heartbreaker."

"I'm not that much younger!"

"You're nineteen," I reminded her. "And he's twenty three."

"That's not much difference!" she claimed.

"You've just moved out of home, Lucy. You're just starting out. You're practically a baby. You do a lot of growing up in those four years. Jasper is…different."

Lucy laughed heartily. It had to be the most serious I had seen her in a long time. "I'm not a baby, Bella. Trust me."

"I know. It's just that guys like Jasper can be tricky sometimes. Don't get too attached, you know?"

Lucy laughed even louder then. Suddenly, she was mature, and not the flighty Lucy I knew. "Bella, I'm not _in love_ with the guy. I just want to fuck him. That's all. And it's not like I'm the Virgin Mary or anything, unsullied by the sins of the world. That ship sailed a _long _time ago. Sex is sex, and I want sex with Jasper. That's _all_."

I didn't want to hear that. I really didn't. I didn't want to know that she wanted to sleep with him like I had, or that Lucy – the girl who I thought of as a little sister – had grown up and experienced things long ago that I was just learning about now.

"But sex can be tricky, too, Lucy. You can't get too attached. He might hurt you."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "I'm not a delicate little snowflake, Bella. And trust me – I'm a fighter. It's not like I'm ever going to fall in any kind of _love_ with the guy. I'm not delusional, contrary to popular belief. Sex is easy and fun and quick."

"It's not always that simple, though."

Lucy's boisterous laugh almost made me feel bad. "With this, it is. And plus, in my experience, the guy who takes your virginity is generally the guy who breaks your heart into pieces and rips out your soul. Any guy after that is a piece of cake. Jasper will be nothing in comparison."

Lucy smiled and trotted out the door then, sending a gorgeous grin Jasper's way. I couldn't believe anything she said. Her experience had been the complete opposite of mine. The boy who broke my heart and ripped my soul out of my chest was not the one who took my virginity. The one who took my virginity was Jasper, barely a month before. Edward was the one who destroyed me, and we had never slept together, yet he still managed to split my heart into a million pieces and make it feel like it would never be whole again. Sometimes it felt like, even five years later, it still wasn't all there.

Yeah. I had to disagree with Lucy on that one. Edward was the one who had broken me. Jasper would never be able to do it.

:::

A few hours later, Lucy left early for class, and with her absence, the shop was very quiet. Garrett and Jasper worked in silence, and I made coffee for the few people who came in. My mind wasn't in it, though. Instead, I was dwelling over the complicated situation I was in. Lucy was interested in Jasper, which she had a right to be. But I was her co-worker and friend, and my relationship with Jasper was complicated as hell. No doubt, there was a possibility for drama there.

It was nearly six o'clock in the evening when Garrett and Jasper started to pack up. When they were finished, Garrett went to use the bathroom before they left. Taking the chance at that moment, I approached Jasper, who was waiting by the door. As I walked over to him he turned towards me, blue paint splattered over his clothes and streaked across his cheek, confusion washing his features.

"Can I have a word?"

For a moment he looked puzzled, but soon Jasper nodded. "Sure thing."

"Privately?"

Silently, Jasper nodded again, and we headed out to the backroom. Once inside, I pulled the door ajar and turned to face Jasper, who was leaning coolly against the counter.

"What is it?" he asked.

"We need to talk about this thing. Deal with it. We shouldn't leave it hanging like this."

"What exactly do you want to clarify?"

"The rules."

Jasper opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He eventually shut it and nodded. "About the exclusive thing?"

"Yes," I agreed. "It's just…you had a right to – uh – sleep with other girls. We agreed on that, and I don't have a problem with it. It's just…"

My voice trailed off when I remembered how I had acted and how immature it had been upon learning about the others. I shouldn't have been like that. It was hypocritical and absurd.

"You would have liked to know," Jasper answered for me, his expression lifeless and his eyes averted to the floor.

"Yes," I gulped.

Jasper nodded, but he still wasn't looking at me. Instead, he was chewing the inside of his lip, staring at his shoes. "So we have another rule: we tell each other if we sleep with anyone else or want to see anyone else, so that they can then decide if they want to continue with this thing, right?"

"Yes," I whispered.

Jasper nodded again, and for a moment I swore that he slammed his eyes shut. Still, he wasn't looking at me, and all I could see was the top of his unkempt mop of hair as he spoke again. "So then where does this all leave us? Are we still…_okay_?"

That was the question that I did not want to face, because I didn't know the answer yet. There were too many problems and issues rushing around in my head, and I couldn't pick one to just go with. Dealing with our issues was something that I didn't want to do – especially not that week, when everything else was slamming me too. There were so many reasons to continue with Jasper, but also so many reasons to discontinue it completely.

"I don't know," I admitted.

Jasper looked defeated, and took what I said the wrong way. "So that's it then; it's over?"

I shook my head. "No, I didn't mean it like that. I mean that I don't know what I think yet. I can't…I can't deal with it at the moment. But I think that a little break would do us good. This agreement wasn't supposed to be complicated, and we need to remember that."

Jasper was still refusing to meet my eyes. I hated not seeing his reactions. "How long?"

"A week. Maybe two," I offered.

Jasper nodded then. A moment later, he pushed himself away from the bench. "Well, I guess I will see you in a week, maybe two, then."

Without another word, Jasper walked straight out the door and out of my life.

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><p><em><strong>Proudly Beta'd by LithiumReaper<strong>_

**You guys. You **_**guys**_**. You never cease to amaze me. If you get any more awesome I think my head might explode. I have no idea what I would do without you. Your reviews just make my day. Keep them coming, and I will definitely get back to you.**


	8. Chapter 8

**I insanely apologise for the late update. I suck. I'm sorry. I won't bore you with an explanation, unless you really want one. Let me just say that you are all fantastic, and I hope I didn't lose too many of you.**

**Jaspers Izzy (now IzPerplexing, I believe) was absolutely lovely and amazing and did a rec for this story over on Darkest Temptations. Thank you so much for that. The link to the blog is on my profile or here, if you want to check it out (take out the brackets and spaces): **_**darksper (.) blogspot (.) com**_**. She also made a beautiful banner, which is in the article and linked on my profile also. She's amazing. Thank you so much for that.**

**This is also where I thank LithiumReaper, my amazing beta, who worked her fingers to the bone to beta this for me. She is amazing.**

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><p><strong>Jasper:<strong>

Bella was pushing me away. It was easy to see, even when she tried to hide it. She was acting indifferent and trying to bring us back to simplicity because she didn't like where we were heading. It didn't matter what I felt. She wanted things to be uncomplicated; easy. And if I wanted to have anything to do with her, I had to go along with it.

_Tame her sweet_.

Yeah. I had to tame her sweet. I felt like she was a hummingbird. If I wanted to keep her near me, I had to move slowly and not make her jump. If I forced myself on her, she would take flight. If I told her that _she _was the girl that Charlotte was talking about, she would flap her wings and fly away. I had to let her take the time that she needed. I had to let her set her own boundaries. I had to let her come and go. I had to let her make her own way, or else I would lose all of her.

That was why I said nothing when she made the rules clearer and asked for a break. If I had told her then that my music was for her, she would run. I couldn't deal with that. And although it was hard for me to cope with her thinking that there was anyone else, it would have been even harder to lose her all-together. It was selfish, because Bella deserved the truth, but she also didn't want anything but sex from me. I had to deal with that the best way I could.

The days leading up to Thursday were slow. Carlisle hadn't gotten back to me on his bullshit drug test, so I supposed that meant I had the all clear. Garrett noticed something was off as soon as we left the coffee shop, and I spent the next three days dodging the bullet. I was kind of glad we had finished the job in one day. Anymore, and I would have been a shattered mess.

My feelings were going haywire that entire week. And if _I_ was that messed up – with Bella and my family and Charlie's death all fucking with my head – I couldn't even imagine what Bella must have felt like. I guess, in that way, her asking for a break was the best thing to do. That week was not welcoming for added drama. It would be a hell of a lot easier if we didn't even have to _think _of each other.

It was during lunch on Thursday when my phone rang. Munching on a mouthful of apple, Garrett raised an eyebrow at me expectantly. He looked like a chimpanzee, and I had to suppress my laughter as I checked the caller ID.

"It's my sister. I've got to take it."

Garrett rolled his eyes and ushered me away, devouring another large bite of his apple. He was the oddest person I knew when it came to eating habits. Whenever he was eating something, he looked like a kid in a fucking candy store.

I rushed over to a quiet area in the alleyway and answered the phone.

"Rosie?"

"Hi, Jay," she greeted me solemnly. The sound sent a chill up my spine, especially considering the silence following.

"What's wrong?" I asked, almost abruptly. "Are you okay? Is the baby okay?"

Rosalie forced a laugh. "I'm fine, Jay. Really. Don't panic."

I couldn't help it. When Rosalie called me, upset, my brotherly instincts went into overdrive. "You can tell me, Rosie. Please? I'm worried about you."

"I'm _fine_, Jay!" she reiterated. "You really need to stop worrying so much."

Easy to say.

"Well…then…what is it you called for?"

Rosalie took a deep breath. There was something there she was trying to force away. "I'm just making sure that you are still coming up tonight. I…I can't wait to see you."

"Of course I am," I promised. "I'll be up after work."

There was another short silence on Rosalie's end. I didn't know if it was the nerves, the excitement of Emmett coming home, or something else that was getting to her.

"We are all meeting at mom's place tonight for dinner to talk about picking up Emmett tomorrow. It would be great if you could come."

Oh.

That.

Yeah.

"What time?"

I didn't want to go there. I really, _really_ didn't. But I didn't really have a choice, either, and I wanted to support my sister. At that time, I would have done anything she asked of me.

"Around seven. I asked to push it out a bit to give you time to check into the motel and then get there."

I nodded, gulping down a thick lump in my throat. "Are the twins there yet?"

Rosalie sounded numb as she spoke. "Alice arrived yesterday. Edward has been here since Sunday."

Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Okay."

"I can't wait to see you. You haven't been up for so long. I miss you a lot, Jay. It's…_weird_, not having you here."

Oh crap. If I didn't feel guilty enough already, I was swamped with it then. It was true. I hadn't seen Rosalie in a long time. I had been completely preoccupied. And that made me a shitty person.

"I'm sorry, Rosie. I should have come up more."

"It's no problem," she said. "Really. Although, when you do get here, you might be a bit surprised."

"Why?"

"Edward has some news."

Of course he fucking does. The guy spent the last six months in Australia. He can't _not _have news.

"I don't really give a shit about Edward," I growled.

"I know," Rosalie sighed. "But I think I need to warn you about this one, or else you are going to be taken…off guard. I just…don't want you to make a scene."

Oh Christ.

"What has he done?"

Rosalie sucked in a deep breath. She knew very well the significance of what she was about to say. "He's…Edward is…_engaged_."

I felt like someone had smacked me with a frying pan.

Engaged. _Engaged_. I hadn't seen the guy in over a year, and now he was fucking _engaged_. Although, I couldn't say it was out of character for him. He was destined for the millionaire lifestyle with a trophy wife, 2.5 kids and three mistresses, but finding out _that_ week, so close to the day that Charlie died, made me want to punch Edward in the gut. He had the _nerve_ to announce it that weekend, of all _fucking _weekends. Not only was it stealing the spotlight from Emmett and Rosalie when they needed it most, but it was basically a spit in the face of Charlie's memory. Not that he would have even _remembered _the significance of that weekend.

"Fucking asshole," I spat, kicking a trashcan.

"Jasper," Rosalie cautioned.

"That makes me sick."

"It's not the worst part."

"How can anything be worse than that?"

"He's engaged to Tanya Denali. He asked her while they were meeting her family in Australia. He has decided to take a year off grad school to marry her. She's up here with him now."

I can't say that I was surprised about that one either. He had been dating Tanya for five years and fucking her for longer. But that was just the icing on top of that day's 'Edward is a fucking asshole' cake.

I didn't say anything then. I didn't have anything _to _say. I wanted to scream at him and punch him in the gut and show him what a complete shit he was. But that would upset Rosalie and Mom and I had to be a good boy and behave myself.

"I know you're angry Jasper, and this is why I'm telling you now; so you can _let it out before you get here_."

"I feel like punching something," I growled.

"Do it then."

"Preferably Edward."

Rosalie scowled at me. "_Jay_."

Rosalie knew full well my anger at Edward over the entire Charlie situation. Although she never knew how close I actually was to Charlie, she knew that I hated what Carlisle and Edward did to him. She knew that I also hated Tanya Denali and Edward and what _they _did. None of it was any big secret. It wasn't hard to put my feelings on this topic together.

"He would deserve it."

Rosalie didn't say anything.

It took me a while to calm down. My head was reeling. Once I reigned it in I tried to speak in a calm and collected manner.

"Thanks for warning me, Rosie."

"No problem."

I paused, trying to think of the right way to ask her. Eventually, I gave up and spat it out. "But how are you? How are you feeling with Emmett coming home?"

"Great," she chimed, although there was hesitation there. "Great. Super excited."

"Really?"

Rosalie took a deep breath. "Well, it would be a bit cliché if I said I was terrified, wouldn't it?"

I felt like my heart was being ripped from my chest. "Oh, Rosie, why?"

I could imagine her shaking her head and forcing away her feelings. "It's just…different, you know? I mean, I'm _huge_. He hasn't seen me like this."

"He will love you no matter what you look like," I told her. "And you look beautiful anyway. _And _you are carrying his_ child_."

"I look like a whale and I feel like a stuffed piñata," she giggled.

"You're beautiful," I repeated.

Rosalie took a shaky breath, and I imagined her wiping tears away. "I can't wait to see you, Jay. Come home quick."

"I will," I promised.

A moment later, Rosalie said goodbye, and hung up.

.:.

I left Seattle at just past five o'clock, and arrived at the motel in Forks at six. Garrett hadn't asked any questions when I had left, and I still hadn't made contact with Charlotte or Peter. I needed time away from them. The drive to Forks wasn't that long in reality, but to me it felt like it took a lifetime. The further north I went, the darker I felt; heavier, even, like a large man with metal toed boots was standing on my stomach. Driving into Forks, I saw the mouldy green forests of my adolescence, and felt my stomach churn.

When I pulled up at the motel I texted Rosalie to tell her I had arrived. She was quick to reply.

_Great! I'm glad you're safe. Dinner is at 7. Can't wait to see you! Behave._

Smiling at the last word, I yanked open the trunk and pulled out my bag and guitar case. I checked in within a few moments and soon tramped my way up to my room. It was a good space, with a double bed, small TV, kitchenette and bathroom. Everything I needed. With a sigh, I threw my stuff onto the bed and headed towards the bathroom to clean up.

I didn't know what form dinner was meant to take, but I definitely knew that my beater shirt splattered with black paint wouldn't suit. And normally, I wouldn't give a shit about that, but this weekend was not about me and it was not about sticking it to Carlisle. This weekend was about Rosalie and Emmett, and both of them wanted it to go down smoothly. I had to leave that teenage rebellious streak at the door and be a man about it.

The only problem was that I didn't really have any clothes that Papa Bear and Mom _would_ approve of. Eventually, I just decided to swap my beater shirt for a black button down. The cuffs were a bit scruffy, so I folded them up and shoved them up to my elbows. The shirt wasn't ironed, but I couldn't help that. I didn't look good, but I looked presentable, and that would just have to fucking do.

It was seven o'clock by the time I organised myself and bucked up the courage to leave. Late already. No doubt I would get shit for it, but whatever. Carlisle could shove it up his ass.

The car ride was only ten minutes long, and for the entire time I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. No place got under my skin as much as Forks did. It hadn't changed one bit since graduation. Hell, I could still see my tagging on the abandoned gas station on the outskirts of town that no one had bothered to paint over. Every corner of the place brought back memories, and none of them were ones that I liked. I could already feel it getting under my skin, like a little bug with venomous roots. I couldn't even fathom how Rosalie could stand to live there. The clouds were omnipresent and intimidating as I drove the winding roads to the Cullen's house.

I pulled my car up between Rosalie's red BMW and Edward's prissy silver Volvo, all sitting in the shade of the towering white house. They were the exact same ones that they had owned in high school. My car was dusty, black and old as fuck. It looked like scrap metal between those two. In the shadow of the Cullen house, with its wide windows, I felt tiny and inferior. I never had anything as lavish as this. And as I walked up the stairs and towards the house I had spent so many years in, I felt a familiar weight starting to lay itself on my shoulders.

I could hear them inside, in the warmth and the light, laughing and chatting like they were the fucking Brady Bunch. And there I was, standing outside, wet from the rain and shivering in the cold, feeling disjointed and unworthy and worthless.

I felt exactly how I had when I was young.

This was why I hated going back to Forks. It made me feel even shitter about myself than I already did. It reminded me how fucked up the world was when people like Carlisle could live in luxury and people like Charlie could lose everything they ever had and die alone.

I lifted my fist to knock before seeing the doorbell. Shaking, like I was some nervous teenage boy about to pick up his prom date, preparing himself to be overpowered but the overprotective Dad, I rang it once and stepped back.

I heard silence dawn inside. A few moments later, I heard footsteps, and then the door swung open to reveal Rosalie standing there, her cheeks glowing, one hand on her rounded stomach draped in a flowing red dress and the other on the door.

A smile broke out across her face and mine.

"Jay," she breathed.

I stepped forwards and wrapped my arms around her, careful not to hug too tight in fear of hurting her stomach. Seeing her warmed my heart. It was one of the few good things about being back.

"Hey, Rosie."

Rosalie lay her chin on my shoulder and let out a loud sigh. A moment later, we pulled away, and my eyes went straight to her stomach.

"You're looking beautiful, Rosie – and it looks like baby's growing. I can't believe how big you've gotten."

Rosalie let out a small laugh. "Seven months in."

I was stunned speechless. As I tried to regain composure Rosalie stepped away and welcomed me inside.

"Jasper's here, everyone," she announced to the room. The silence was unnerving as I stepped through the door.

Sure enough, when I turned to the dining room, they were all there. Esme – Mom – was working in the kitchen with a strawberry blonde girl who I assumed to be Tanya Denali. Alice was perched on the counter, chattering away like she usually did. Then there was Edward and Carlisle, who were standing by Carlisle's liquor cabinet with glasses of fine scotch in their hands.

My mother was the first one to reply as Rosalie shut the door, rushing over to me and wiping her hands on her apron. For a moment, I saw the spark in her eye that I had loved when I was a child and missed when I was a teenager.

"Oh, Jasper!" she gushed, capturing me in a sweet hug. Rosalie had her same odd violet coloured eyes. Their likeliness was uncanny. "Jasper, darling, I have missed you. Welcome home."

For a moment, it seemed like she had forgotten who I was, what sort of family we were, and that I generally _wasn't _welcome home.

When Mom let me go she ushered me over to the family gathering. "Come with me, darling. We are just getting ready for dinner. Oh, isn't this fantastic! Soon we will have the entire family home."

Mom glanced to Carlisle. He quickly forced a pleasant smile.

"Evening, Jasper," he nodded curtly.

_Yeah. Evening to you too...asshole_.

"Hi."

Alice jumped off the counter then, smiling that weird crooked grin that she shared with her brother, quirking an eyebrow at me.

"Jasper. It's been a while," she greeted, pursing her lips and making me wonder what she was thinking.

"Alice," I smiled. Carlisle looked like he was about to punch me in the gut for just looking at his precious daughter – especially when she raked her eyes up and down my body.

When I saw a movement to my left – someone coming around behind the table – I was surprised. Especially when I realised that it was Edward.

His expression was stern as he approached me. He definitely wasn't happy to see me, and I could see the anger burning in his eyes as he stuck his hand out, as if this was some sort of fucking formal business meeting.

"Good to see you again, Jasper."

I looked at his hand and raised an eyebrow. He held it there. I had no intention of taking it. This was not a business deal, and I wasn't going to accept his fake pleasantries. Only then, I heard a clearing of a throat behind me, and remembered that Rosalie wanted me to _behave_. So, begrudgingly, I took his hand.

"Yeah, you too."

The shake was weak, and over in a moment. In the next second, a stranger had floated up next to us. Well, she wasn't exactly a _stranger_, but I hadn't seen her in over five years, and when I had it hadn't been a nice experience.

Tanya Denali smiled sweetly, and I recognised her straight away. In five years she had barely changed a bit. Edward snaked his arm around her waist possessively, pulling her closer to him, as he introduced us.

"Oh, yes, Jasper, this is Tanya Denali, my fiancée."

I could feel my anger boiling again, and had to crush my hand into a fist to stop myself from blowing up at all of them. Tanya stuck out her hand, too, as if I really gave a shit, and I was forced to accept it.

"Oh yeah, right, Rosalie told me about that. Uh…congrats…"

Tanya grinned as though she had just been given a gift. Behind them, Alice was leaning against the counter, covering her mouth with her hand to stop herself from laughing. Carlisle was looking at me reproachfully, making sure I wouldn't do anything wrong.

"It's so great to see you again, Jasper! What has it been – five _years_?" Tanya laughed, smiling brightly. "Gosh, we must have been eighteen when we last saw each other. It seems like an eternity ago!"

Eternity. Yeah. That was about right.

"Yeah. Long time ago," I agreed. "It's good to see that you two are – uh – still _together_."

The entire room looked a little frightened at that sentence, as if I was about to blow the lid on the situation and bring the whole Bella factor into it. Even Tanya's expression became worried.

"Oh yes, still going strong!" Tanya agreed after a short pause. "I do hope you will come to our wedding in a few months!"

Fuck if I want to.

Rosalie saw my apprehension and cleared her throat again.

"Yeah. Sure. Sounds great," I agreed.

Tanya's smile was startlingly sincere. She reminded me of Lucy a bit; completely oblivious to what was going on around her.

"Oh, this is going to be so great! I'm so happy that you will come! It will be great to have the whole family there!" she exclaimed, turning to Edward. He winced at the sound, and I had to bite my cheeks to stop my laughter. He wasn't happy with me at all. Clearly, he didn't want me at the wedding. He was looking at me suspiciously, as if trying to ascertain what I was planning to fuck it all up.

Fuck-face. Like I really gave a shit.

When I noticed Carlisle stepping forward, walking towards the kitchen and my mother, I wasn't shaken. Only when I heard what he had to say did I feel that familiar anger boiling in my veins again.

"Tanya, sweetheart, I wouldn't hold your breath. Jasper here has a tendency to make promises that he can't keep. It's…_sad…_to say, but I doubt whether he will make it to your wedding."

Tanya's smile slowly started to disappear. I saw a small smirk start to etch itself onto Edward's smug face. My mother looked suddenly frightened, but she wouldn't say a word in my defence, and turned around to face a steaming pot on the stove.

I wanted to scream at Carlisle. I wanted to walk over to him and punch him straight in his lying, deceiving face. But I couldn't, because Rosalie would wring my neck and it would ruin the weekend for her and Emmett and fuck up my chances to see them again while Carlisle was still around.

Carlisle placed his used glass on the counter and turned to face me. Tanya was quick to be quiet. I bit the inside of my cheeks and hissed my reply, resisting the urge to tell him _exactly _where to shove his opinion of me.

"There's no need to doubt it, Carlisle. I will be there. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

That was a lie. I had no desire to go. But my need to prove Carlisle wrong fucked that right over. I was bound to go, just to prove a point. I had that brutal stubborn streak that could get me into shit subconsciously.

Carlisle's smile held a sarcastic bite. He proceeded to walk towards my mother, place his hand on her shoulder, and lean in to see what she was cooking. Her back became ramrod straight in the tension. A moment later, he placed a kiss on her cheek – almost possessively – and turned to me again.

"Although I'm sure they are good intentioned, your words mean little, Jasper. We shouldn't fool ourselves into believing them. Your mother agrees with me."

I watched as his hand tightened the grip on my mother's shoulder. She didn't melt into his touch like she used to with my father. She looked almost frightened to have him so near. I watched as she shuddered just a little bit, but continued to stir the pot on the stove she was looking after, refusing to turn towards me. I almost pounced on him then and there. I wanted to rip his hands off my mother and snap his wrists. I couldn't stand to see him touch her like that, or even at all. I wanted to make it so that he could never touch her again.

The room was deathly silent. You could have cut through the tension with a knife. Even Alice wasn't smiling anymore. She was watching Carlisle with the same disgusted, suspicious expression that I was. Edward and Tanya were silent; Edward with his arm hung over her shoulder, a sort of satisfied gleam in his eye. Rosalie was the one who shocked me the most, however. Her head was bowed, and she had shrunk back from it all. The Rosalie that I knew wouldn't have been that submissive. The Rosalie that I knew would have shot Carlisle a dirty look and bit back.

Everyone gave into his possessive personality. They were all contempt to be pawns in his game.

I fucking wasn't.

"My _mother_ can speak for herself," I growled. "She doesn't need _you_ to tell me what she thinks."

Carlisle stepped forward, his hand slowly slipping from my mother's shoulder. When the contact was broken, I watched as her shoulders dropped and her muscles relaxed. Still, she wouldn't turn around.

Carlisle was taking measured steps towards me, his head held high, as everyone else buckled under his thumb; everyone except for Alice, which surprised me the most, because she was watching her father with some sort of indignation I rarely saw.

"Do you think you are better than me, Jasper?" he asked, clicking his tongue, his voice measured and slow. "Do you think you are better than this – than _us_?"

I didn't answer as he came closer to me. I didn't know what to say. While half of me wanted to punch him in the gut, the other wanted to _behave _like Rosalie had told me to. That half reminded me that it was only for a weekend. A few days, and then I never had to see him again.

But no. That was a lie. If I behaved, then I lost the game we had been playing my entire teenage life. If I gave into him, he won. Pride was what made me keep a defiant face as he continued speaking.

"You're not better than this, Jasper. You're far below this. You are hardly even worth the ground you stand on." In my peripheral vision, I saw Rosalie's head snap up and her eyes narrow into slits. There was a fire there that she rarely had anymore. But still, I knew that she wouldn't say a word, because Carlisle was Emmett's father, and that was something she could never escape. "It really is a shame, though. You could have been so much better. The Lord knows your mother and I tried to raise you right. I tried to be a good father to you, but you just had this…_stubborn_ streak. Sadly, you haven't changed. You're still the exact same boy who used to live here. It's sad, really. You could have been so much better."

_Better. Better_. I had heard it all before; so many times before. It didn't affect me anymore.

Carlisle turned towards Edward, and for a moment sent him a doting-Dad smile. Suddenly, Edward looked like a child again, yearning for the approval of his father. Then, he turned back to me, and put on a façade of disappointment.

"It really is a shame that you aren't more like your brother."

If the room wasn't filled with tension before, it was then. You could have drowned in it. The look of horror on Alice's face shook me – almost as much as my mother's indifference didn't surprise me at all.

"You were _never_ a father to me," I replied, keeping my voice calm and dripping with venom. "You were never even _close_. I _have _a father. His name is Hale Whitlock. You're just the guy who shacked up with his wife before the ink on his gravestone had time to dry."

When Carlisle moved, every person in the room flinched. Tanya looked absolutely horrified. She had clearly never seen this side of the family before, because as soon as Carlisle's hand snapped up and grabbed the collar of my shirt, yanking my neck towards him, she screamed.

It all happened very fast then. My mother dropped her wooden spoon and fell back against the counter top, horrified but not daring to utter a sound. Edward grabbed Tanya and yanked her away from us both. Alice was on her feet and at our side in a second, Rosalie quick to follow. Alice's hands went to Carlisle's arms, trying to force them away, as she told Rosalie not to come too close in case she was hurt. That surprised me the most. I had never seen Alice defy Carlisle so blatantly before.

"Dad, put him down, _now_! This is _absurd_! Stop it!"

I didn't flinch through it all. Carlisle's eyes flickered to his daughter, and something in his expression softened as he looked at her. But still, his grip on my shirt was tightening.

"Dad, _put him down_!" she yelled again.

"_Alice_, get out of it," Edward hissed at her cruelly.

"Carlisle, please, stop it!" Rosalie begged.

Alice ignored him. "Daddy, please, _stop it_!"

Carlisle glanced between me and his daughter. It took him a while, but eventually he pushed me away and released my shirt. Rosalie was there, by my side, as soon as he let me down.

"Jay, are you okay?" she asked desperately.

I nodded quickly, unshaken, my eyes still locked with Carlisle, refusing to back down.

Carlisle didn't speak. Alice – who looked absolutely tiny in between us – was angry as hell.

"You two have to stop this!" she growled. "Emmett is coming home tomorrow and this shit _cannot_ go on, _okay_?"

Carlisle didn't like it that his precious daughter was taking control. He still tried to lay down the law.

"I _refuse_ to have him there," he ordered, meaning me, his voice booming throughout the house. "I absolutely _refuse_ to let him come in and ruin this happy time for us!"

"Carlisle, that's not fair!" Rosalie insisted, speaking up. "Emmett and I want him there!"

Carlisle looked at her like she was a child, not the mother of his unborn grandchild. "I know, Rosalie, sweetheart, but Jasper is a menace. It will only cause trouble."

"Dad, listen to me," Alice said then, her voice sweet and daughterly. "_Emmett _wants Jasper there. Emmett wants everyone there. And this weekend is about _him_. So, I'm sorry, but you just need to figure out a way to deal with that."

Carlisle looked to his daughter, and something in his heart changed. She always had a way to get him to listen to her. Emmett told me that it was because she looked so much like their mother.

It was a long moment before Carlisle exhaled deeply, giving a slight nod. He wasn't happy with it at all, still.

"You're right, Alice. You are. This weekend is about Emmett." Then, Carlisle turned to me, and his eyes were dark again. "But if you do _anything_ to ruin it, I will make you regret it. Now get out of my house!"

"Dad!" Alice scolded.

"No!" Rosalie pleaded.

"Yes," Carlisle ordered. "Emmett may want Jasper around, but I do not, and while Emmett is not here, Jasper needs to make himself sparse. Go, now! Rosalie will contact you tomorrow with the details."

Nobody said a word after that. And looking towards my mother, who was still hiding in the kitchen, refusing to meet my eyes, her head bowed and her face indifferent, I didn't bother to argue either. If my own mother wouldn't even put up a fight for me, what the hell was the point?

"Jasper," Rosalie whispered as I turned to leave. "Please."

"It's fine, Rosie," I assured her. "I'll see you tomorrow."

:::

**Bella:**

I picked up Renee from Seattle airport after work on Thursday. The reunion was rather awkward. She tried to hug me, but it felt rigid, like there was some sort of wall between us. Her face was pallid and she looked exhausted; a stark contrast from the tanned skin and spirited gleam she usually had.

"It's good to see you, darling," she said as we got into the car to head up to Forks. It was at least six o'clock before we let. "I've missed you so much."

"You too, Mom," I agreed, unsure of what else to say. It felt like something dark was looming over us. In fact, something was: Charlie. I felt it, heavy and weighing on my chest.

"How have you been? I feel like I haven't seen you for years. How is work going? Are you still living with that lovely girl – what was her name – Angela?"

Renee was firing off questions left and right, desperately searching for something to talk about. I tried to answer her quickly.

"I'm great. Work is going well, and I'm still with Angela. She's great too. How is Phil? How is the baseball going?"

As soon as I asked, Renee went into a long explanation about everything that was happening in their lives. When she did, she was happy. She clung to the topic and talked the juice out of it so we wouldn't have to mention Charlie. It worked, too, for the whole hour that it took us to get to Forks, and the only contributions I had to make to the conversations were the odd inquisitorial questions and single-word acknowledgments when the conversation dulled a little bit. Usually I would have been happy to see my mother, but the air around that weekend was different. There was a perpetual shadow over us, and something pushing the two of us apart. I felt like we were magnets turned the wrong way around; repelling each other, when really we should have be drawn to each other like a normal mother and daughter.

Silence fell on us as soon as we passed the "Welcome to Forks, Washington" sign. Returning never got any easier, despite how much time passed by. The drive back into town was always the hardest. It ate at me, and I was painfully reminded of that first drive back into Forks many years before, when I first went back to live with Charlie; before everything went wrong; before I had even met the Cullen family.

I wasn't the only one who had a tough time returning to Forks. The town didn't hold very pleasurable memories for my mother either. It was filled with memories of her and Charlie's courtship, marriage and subsequent brutal divorce. The town was the embodiment of everything she despised – cold, sluggish, immobile – and the total of everything that hurt me. And strangely, even though we hated it, we were still there, because unlike us, Charlie had loved it.

When we reached Forks we checked into the motel and were soon in our room. The trip up was silent, and as I tossed my bag onto my bed, Renee finally broke that silence.

"Would you like to get anything for dinner, Bella? I'm quite hungry myself. Perhaps we can order a pizza or something."

I wasn't hungry. I couldn't even fathom stomaching food. But I still nodded and agreed. We needed something to do.

"I don't mind driving in to get it. What would you like?"

Renee gave me her order of pepperoni, and soon I was heading out the door and down to the car. Even after five years, I still knew the Forks like the back of my hand.

I tried to concentrate on driving, and not the places I was passing, as I headed towards the pizza place. Sadly, it didn't really work. Everywhere I went I was either reminded of going there with Edward, Charlie or Alice. Then, I was also reminded of how the name Swan was dirt in this town, and desperately hoped that I wouldn't see anyone I knew on this visit. That might actually kill me.

The only pizza place in town was a little Italian place near the post office. It was a popular hangout for high school students on a Friday or Saturday night; first dates, birthday parties, end-of-term celebrations – they all occurred there. Hell, my first date with Edward had even occurred there.

Like I said...the memories hurt.

When I pulled up, I could see that it was already packed. I could feel my heart thumping in my chest Before I walked inside, I fixed my hair so that it covered most of my face, dreading the thought of running into anyone I knew inside. As I headed towards the door, I could feel the rain sloshing against my boots, heavy, and remembered that familiar sensation of the water weighing you down.

I kept my head down as I waited in line in the hot store. Once I reached the till I placed my order, paid, and was told that it would take fifteen minutes to be cooked. Great. _Wonderful_.

I meandered around inside for a little while, but the loud laughter and chatter and the heat from the ovens was too much, and I started to feel claustrophobic. When I glanced around and spotted the table that Edward and I had sat at on our first date – exactly how it had been back then when we were nothing but innocent little Freshman and completely oblivious to what lay ahead – I felt a sick churning sensation in my stomach. If I wasn't a mess already, I was a mess at that moment, and I quickly took leave and headed back into the rain.

The rain was pouring, and I ran from the awning covering the outside of the pizza shop to my car very quickly, my head down and my hands shoved into my pockets. Quickly, I wrenched the door open and cranked up the heat, trying to warm my hands. Then, just as suddenly, there was a knocking on my window.

I jumped at the sound, and glanced at the window to see an unfamiliar face staring back at me. Soon, its lips started moving, saying something I couldn't hear. My heart was still pounding from the fright, but I eventually scrambled around and managed to wind down the window.

With the window down, I could see clearer. My visitor was male, with pale skin, bright baby blue eyes short blonde hair that was covered by a hood. He had a baby-like face and a wide gleam. I knew then that he was familiar, but still couldn't quite place him.

"Can I – uh – help you?" I asked disjointedly.

"You're Bella Swan, right?" the stranger responded. I felt my stomach give a churn. The last thing I had wanted was to be identified.

"Um…yeah," I nodded.

The stranger's mouth opened in surprise. "Shit! No way! It's me – Mike – Mike Newton."

I blanked at him. The name flew completely over my head.

He understood my confusion immediately. "I went to Forks High with you! I – uh – well – I had a massive crush on you all through high school." He punctuated this explanation with laughter. "But no worries. I am _completely _over it."

Mike. Mike Newton. I should have caught on sooner. Captain of the football team, popular and fun-loving, rival of Edward, prized trust-fund kid, hater of all things Cullen.

"Oh, right," I nodded. "You – uh – dated that…um…Jessica Stanley, right?"

Mike's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Yeah! Yeah, that's me! Well, of course, we're not together anymore. We broke up in the first year of college. She was _psycho_."

I smiled politely, but I could feel my cheeks burning brightly. "Right. Well, it's great to see you again, Mike."

Mike nodded, but he had no intention of leaving anytime soon. "You too! Yeah, how have you been? What are you doing back in town? Jesus, it's been years since I have seen you; not since the beginning of senior year when you left! Man, this is insane."

I smiled again, but I felt like a knife was stabbed into my gut. I didn't want to answer any of those questions. I didn't even want to acknowledge them.

"Oh yeah, you know, I've been good. Everything's good," I shrugged.

Mike nodded, and looked as though I had just given a whole bunch of information to fuel the fire. "That's great! Yeah, I always wondered what happened to you! I ended up going to Ol' Miss on a football scholarship. Jessica followed me there, but like I said, it didn't work out."

I nodded, but didn't reply. It hurt that he had things to report – things that were happening, and a life that was thriving – whereas I had nothing but a failed college career and a pathetic job in a coffee shop. It hurt to know that I had fallen so far behind my peers. Maybe if I was quiet for long enough, he would leave.

"Oh yeah! I'm really sorry to hear about your father, too! I always meant to say that, but, I mean, I never saw you. That really sucks. I'm back in town visiting my parents. You should come around for dinner sometime! It would be really great to catch up!"

I felt another knife slide into my gut. Again, I just nodded, but this time I had to reply.

"Oh, yeah, that sounds great, Mike, but – uh – I – I'm not in town for long. I don't really have time. Sorry."

Mike nodded, although the brightness in his expression started to drain. "Oh, right, that's cool. Of course. Well, it was great to see you, Bella!"

"You too," I nodded.

Suddenly Mike reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. "Here's my number. If you ever want to catch up, give me a call."

I took the business card with a smile, slid it into my pocket, and bid Mike farewell. Once he was gone, I sunk back into the seat, wound the window up, and let dry, tearless sobs rock my body.

:::

Dinner on Thursday night was quiet, and both my mother and I retired to bed early. Being back in Forks was not good for either of us. My mother was drained of the little light she had left. I felt like my chest was clogged with moss.

On Friday morning we woke, got ready, and decided to head to the diner for breakfast. There was some sort of sombre feeling mulling over that decision. Charlie had frequented that diner. He loved it. He used to have many friends who went there. He felt like he belonged there. Until everyone chose Carlisle over him.

At the diner my mother ordered eggs and bacon. I ordered pancakes. We barely spoke as we waited for our food. There wasn't much to say at all. My mother was scared to bring up anything in case it upset me. I was scared to mention Charlie in case it hurt her. Neither of us wanted to face what we were meant to, and even though we were pretending to face it by being in town, we weren't really.

I was playing with my straw when Renee started to giggle. The smile on her face was genuine, and in her eyes I could see that familiar little sparkle I had seen when I was a little girl. Looking up to her, I frowned, trying to ascertain what she was thinking about.

When she noticed me looking at her, she started to blush crimson. She covered her mouth with her hand and tried to calm herself down. I couldn't help but smile at her happiness.

"What is it?" I asked.

Renee shook her head, and another bout of laughter hit her. The waitress came and gave us our food. Still, Renee didn't stop giggling.

"Mom, what is it?" I repeated.

She shook her head and attempted to speak. "No – no – it's nothing. I'm just…thinking. It's just –"

Another bout of giggles shook through her. That made me laugh, too.

"– oh gosh, Bella, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be laughing at all."

"That's fine, Mom!" I insisted. "It's good to see you happy."

"Oh sweetheart, it's just the memories in this place. Your father used to take me here all the time – we came here for our first date, in fact. Boy, those were good times."

She glanced around the diner, and I could see tears filling her eyes. But they weren't sad tears. If anything, they were tears of joy, and that tore at my heart, because I saw a spirit in them that only my father could ignite.

"When – when he had picked me up for the date, he told me to dress up – that we were going to some five-star restaurant or something." She wiped at the tears in her eyes, and a bout of giggles had her clutching her stomach. "I put on this gorgeous silk blue dress and wore heels and did my hair and makeup – the whole nine yards. But I was dreading the date. I thought your father was some blue-collar worker trying to fool me into thinking that he was a wealthy trust-fund kid. And he pulled up to my house dressed in a tuxedo and whisked me away in his pickup truck."

Renee looked lost in the story, her eyes glazed over as she folded in on herself. It was beautiful to watch.

"But then, he pulled up in the parking lot here. You cannot imagine how shocked I was. So amongst the hunters and fisherman and families on road trips, your father and I had our first date here, while dressed like we were going to the prom. And you know what we ate?"

I shook my head, not wanting to speak and spoil the moment.

"I had a cheeseburger and chilli-cheese fries. Your father had ribs, a slice of apple pie, and a large strawberry milkshake. It was a _mess_. And when I tried to order a Garden Salad to be all polite and lady-like, your father shook his head, handed me back the menu and told me to suck it up, grow a pair and order some real, hearty food. He didn't want me to pretend, or to try and be anything that I wasn't – he wanted to be with me because he liked _me_; messy eater and all. And it was absolutely perfect."

I was in awe. I never knew that about my parents. In fact, I had never heard either of them talk about each other even _remotely_ in a way that eluded to the love they had for one another. Charlie had always asked about Renee, but his questions were always timid and void. He was just as afraid of confronting his past and his feelings as I was. And my mother…my mother had never even seemed to care about him. She loved Phil. Charlie was hardly ever a blip on her radar. When I was young, it always seemed like she didn't think he even _mattered_.

"Charlie and I used to come here every Sunday night for dinner when I was living with him," I told her. "I never understood why he loved it so much, but he came without fail." _Even when I refused_, I thought to myself. "Maybe that was the reason; because of your first date."

Renee smiled solemnly. "We did that, too, when we were together," she told me. "When you were a baby you loved the chocolate milkshakes. But…it changed. For a little while, it was fun, but soon that monotony of coming here every Sunday night started to eat at me, like everything else. It was the same, all the time, and soon, I couldn't stand it. I…I had to leave."

I didn't know why she had to bring that up. I felt a shot of anger at the mention of their divorce. It felt like an unnecessary thing to mention.

Renee saw the way I was looking at her. It was like a dark shadow came over us.

"Oh, please don't look at me that way, Bella. You know that it had to happen. We didn't belong here."

I could feel my temper flaring. I couldn't fathom swallowing even a bit of my breakfast. Not with that sick sensation in my stomach.

"Bella, please," Renee pleaded. "Don't look at me like that. You know I'm right. We never belonged here."

"Stop it," I said. "Just stop it, Mom."

"Bella! Don't act like that, please! You know what this place is like. We didn't belong! Tell me you know that."

I was sick of her claims. I spoke before my mind properly registered what I was doing, and years of anger came flooding out of me like a waterfall.

"No," I commanded. "No. There is no _we_. _You _didn't belong here. _You_. And then you made _damn _sure that I _never _felt like I belonged here. You made damn sure that I _never_ got to know Charlie. There was no _we_. It was all _you_."

My mother looked like she was about to burst into tears. I should have stopped then. I know that I should have stopped. But in that moment, I was nothing but a stubborn teenager with a heart of regret.

"Bella, _please _–" Renee started to argue, but I cut her off.

"No, Mom," I reiterated. "_You _took me away from here. _You _took me hundreds of miles away from my father. You made sure that I _never_ liked it here. You hated Forks, so you made sure that I did too. You _told me_ how horrible it was. And you made _damn _sure that I only saw my father for _four weeks _every single _year_! _You _stole that from me! _You _were the one who didn't belong!"

"You never wanted to go to Forks! You hated it!"

"Only because you _told me to_!"

"I couldn't force you to do anything," she pleaded.

"I was a _child_! You should have supported me in actually getting to _know_ my father!"

I felt like my insides had been frozen solid. I didn't care if my mother was crying or if the entire diner was looking at us. I felt a burn in my gut and a fire in my heart. I could feel every little feeling I had felt and held back for years bubbling up again.

"Bella, _please_," Renee begged again. "I _tried_. You know that I tried. You went to live with Charlie. I never stopped you."

"When I was _fourteen_! What about the _twelve years _between your divorce and then? And I _only_ went because _you _wanted to travel around the country with _your _new husband! What about the years _before_ that? When did you _ever _try?"

Renee was shaking her head, tears streaming down her cheeks and ricocheting onto the hard wooden table top. I felt cold and cruel and horrible. I couldn't stand being in that room. With a start, I pushed myself up from the table, snatched my bag from the seat, and got out of the booth.

"Where are you going?" Renee asked, her voice barely a whisper.

I reached into my bag, grabbed a twenty dollar note, and threw it onto the table. "I need air. I will find my own way back to the motel."

With that, I left quickly, and without any idea of where I was going, I just started walking.

:::

**Jasper:**

Rosalie came around to the motel at around three that afternoon. I was sitting on the bed, strumming at my guitar, mulling over a way to kill time. I didn't know what time we were picking up Emmett, or how we were getting there, or anything like that. But when Rosalie turned up, I knew I would find out.

As soon as she came into the room I saw that she was upset. I hated the scene.

"I'm so sorry about last night, Jay. It was complete shit. Carlisle was an asshole."

I shrugged. "It's nothing new."

"But it shouldn't have happened then; not so quickly, and not this weekend."

"Did you really think it would go off without a hitch?"

Rosalie smiled, and I saw her trying to suppress a little laugh. "No, I guess not."

I smiled, and then fell silent. Rosalie came over to the bed and lowered herself down to take a seat on the edge, her stomach seeming to constrict her movements.

I was alert and worried at the sound. "How are you feeling? How is baby going?"

Rosalie nodded, taking deep breaths. "It's fine. We are fine. I don't think there will be anymore complications."

Rosalie had had a few scares during her pregnancy, but with rest she seemed to be normal again. Having Emmett home would help her even more. He completed her, and she wouldn't be so worried, which would reduce stress for her and the baby.

"Is there anything that I can do?" I asked desperately.

Rosalie smiled, and her eyes glimmered with a sort of deep-seated wisdom. "A hug would be nice, Jay."

I smiled, and scooted over on the bed to wrap my arms around her. Rosalie noticeably relaxed, and leant her head on my shoulder. She wore a sweet smile as she looked down to her bulging belly.

"Oh gosh, I'm huge," she giggled after a few moments.

"Massive," I chuckled.

Rosalie nudged me. "Not for much longer."

"I can't wait," I agreed.

"Uncle Jasper," Rosalie mused. "You're getting old, Jay."

"Old? That's rich, _Mommy_."

Rosalie started to blush. "Oh gosh, I'm going to be a Mom."

"A _great_ Mom," I reminded her.

Rosalie took a deep breath, paused for a moment, and went to change the subject.

"You're playing," she said, nodding to the guitar.

"A bit."

Rosalie giggled. "I remember when Dad gave you his old guitar with the missing string when we were young. It was like you had found a part of your soul."

"Yeah."

"I'm glad that you are still playing, Jasper," she whispered.

I couldn't reply, because I didn't know what my playing _was _anymore. Rosalie realised this apprehension and changed the subject.

"Emmett's plane gets in at six. We are leaving at four thirty to go and get him."

I nodded. "How are we all getting down there?"

"Two cars," Rosalie answered. For a moment, I worried about who I would be riding with, but soon realised that I didn't have to worry. The people I didn't want to ride with wouldn't want to ride with me either.

"How are we riding?"

"Carlisle, Esme, Edward and Tanya will take one car. You, Alice and I will take the other. Emmett will ride with us on the way home."

"Sounds great," I agreed.

"It wasn't really hard to organise…especially after last night."

She didn't need to explain anymore. I understood.

"Speaking of last night," I began, "what the hell was up with Alice? She was strangely defiant of Carlisle – I mean, defiant straight to his face. What happened?"

Alice was no stranger to being defiant to her father, but it was usually in secret. She was never openly critical of him, but played little games to get under his skin, concocted by her manipulative little mind. But last night was completely different.

"I noticed that, too," Rosalie agreed. "Maybe college changed her. She has had a lot of time away from him."

I was still suspicious. "Yeah. Maybe..."

Rosalie glanced at the time. "Shit. I better go and get ready." She started to stand up, and I could see the panic setting in again. "We will pick you up at four thirty."

Rosalie refused to meet my eyes as she stood up and gathered her bag. I aided her up, and as she went to walk out, I placed a hand on her shoulder and asked her to stop.

"Rosie," I said. "Hang on a minute."

Rosalie turned around, and sure enough, there were tears in her eyes when she did.

She attempted to smile at me, but I saw straight through it.

"You will be fine," I promised her. "Everything will be perfect. Emmett will be so happy to see you. You know that, right?"

Rosalie nodded and pushed away her tears. "I know," she agreed. "I know. It's just…I've missed him so much."

I wrapped my arms around her, and Rosalie fell into my hug. I hated to see my sister so broken and lost. It wasn't what she used to be.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Jay," she laughed as she pulled back. "I love you."

"I love you too, Rosie," I replied. "Now go on and get ready. Take a hot shower, pamper yourself, and get ready to see Emmett again. It will all work out perfectly, okay?"

Rosalie nodded, and wiping away the drying tears, she headed towards the door. As I watched her go I swore to myself that I would make sure the evening went smoothly, even if I had to swallow my pride and give in to Carlisle. Rosalie deserved the best. I had to realise that.

:::

The trip down to the airport in Seattle was long. I felt ridiculous, having just come up from Seattle the previous day. I didn't see Carlisle, Esme, Edward or Tanya until we pulled up at the airport.

During our trip, the car was quiet. I drove, whilst Rosalie sat in the passenger seat and Alice sat in the back, sprawled out across the seats, listening to music. I was grateful to be riding with them.

At the airport, Emmett's plane was twenty minutes late. We were waiting for half an hour before he came out, tension packing the small arrival area. There were quite a few families waiting there, and I only guessed that quite a few men were coming home that day. When they finally started coming out, Rosalie grabbed my hand and squeezed it so tight that the blood flow to my fingers stopped. And strangely, it was settling rather than painful.

Carlisle and Edward stood with their arms around their partners next to us. Rosalie stood close to me, her hand gripping mine tight. Alice stood on the other side of Rosalie, clicking her tongue with nerves. And as we watched more and more men arrive and be reunited with their families, the suspense only grew.

Then, through the barrier, I saw him. His head was bobbing along, his previous curly brown hair swamped for a crew cut. I spotted his prominent dimples almost instantly. His massive frame was not hard to spot and dressed in his army uniform and lugging his duffel bag over his shoulder, he was like a bright beacon. For a moment, it was all too familiar.

As Emmett went through security and started towards the gate, I remembered my father doing the exact same thing. I remembered running up to him, Rosalie and I holding hands tight as we sprinted towards him. I remember her golden hair flying out behind her and how it had felt like I was running ten miles, not mere feet. I remembered how he had thrown down his bag and knelt down on one knee, his blue eyes sparkling as he saw us. I remembered how he had wrapped both of us in his arms and hugged and kissed us as we squealed and giggled and laughed, young and childish and naïve. I remembered how I had put my hands on his head, feeling the stubby tufts of blonde where his shaggy locks _had _been. I remembered how good it had felt to have him home, and how our family felt completed again.

Then, I remembered how it had felt when he came home for the last time. I remembered how my mother had slicked my hair back and dressed me in a suit and tie. I remembered how Rosalie had worn vivid red lipstick and a pretty black dress, her hair pulled back from her face. And I remembered how she had gripped my hand and held it tight and cried silently as they carried him out to the sounds of honorary trumpets. I remembered the coldness and emptiness I had felt, and I remembered how when I had fallen to my knees because I realised that I would never be hugged by my father again, Rosalie had fallen to hers next to me too, never letting my hand go.

But as soon as Emmett broke through the gate, I felt my hand go free, and Rosalie was running towards him. My heart deflated ever so slightly as I felt the blood rush to my fingertips. Never mind her swelling belly; Rosalie was running to Emmett, her husband. That was where she was meant to be. And as he wrapped his arms around her and swung her off her feet, I flexed my hand, feeling a rush of warmth through my veins. That was where she was meant to be.

As soon as Emmett released Rosalie he knelt down on his knee, his hands going to her stomach. I saw the smile of utter delight on his face as he stared at his child, leaning in to kiss her bellybutton. Rosalie's hand went to his cheek, and she pulled him up to kiss her on the lips. The moment was beautiful, and briefly I wondered if that was what my mother and father had been like, too. Complete and utter bliss.

Rosalie and Emmett took their time greeting each other, wrapping their arms around one another as though they never wanted to let go. None of us wanted to intrude on that. When they did start heading over to us, Carlisle and Esme were the first to greet him.

Carlisle shook Emmett's hand heartily and clapped him on the back. My mother couldn't help but wrap her arms around him – at least as far as she could manage – and hug him tight. Next was Edward and Tanya, and they greeted him the exact same as Carlisle and Esme had – only Tanya's hug was more of an awkward one-arm thing. After them, Alice skipped up to him, her smile bright and her demeanour springy. Without a word Emmett scooped her up in his arms and Alice wrapped hers around him, again only as far as they could go. The extreme difference in their sizes was quite hilarious.

Next, Emmett walked towards me, and as soon as I saw that cheery smile with the dimples I couldn't help but feel happy.

"Jazz," he greeted. "Long time, no see."

I smiled, stepped forward, and gave him a quick hug; none of that handshake shit.

"Good to see you, Em."

"How has life been treating you, Blondey? All quiet on the western front?"

I raised an eyebrow. I had forgotten how much I missed Emmett's humorous, carefree attitude.

"I heard you knocked up my sister, mate. What's that about?"

Emmett laughed heartily. "Super sperm."

I cringed. "Oh fuck. I didn't want to know that."

Emmett laughed boisterously and clapped me on the back. "Fuck, I've missed you."

"It's great to have you home," I agreed. "Rosalie needs you now."

"I know. I'll look after her. I promise."

It was my turn to clap him on the back. "I know, mate. Otherwise I'd have to shoot your ass."

Emmett laughed again, and soon the family was back at his side and we were walking back out to the cars. It was only when we were loading Emmett's bag in the car and sorting everything out did Carlisle throw us a curveball.

"Emmett, you and Rosalie can ride with Esme and I. Edward and Tanya can ride with Alice and Jasper."

Straight away, Edward turned to Carlisle, about to protest, but Carlisle's subsequent glare had him shutting up fast. Alice passed me as we were heading towards the car, and said exactly what I was thinking.

"Get ready for a shit show."

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><p><em><strong>Proudly Beta'd by LithiumReaper<strong>_

**So…whatcha think? Please do leave your thoughts in a review.**


	9. Chapter 9

**I suck for getting this out late. I'm sorry. I hope you are all still with me, and enjoy this one. I owe you all the biggest thank you on the planet.**

**LithiumReaper is my beta, who I would be absolutely lost without. She is my rock, and I love her. Thank you, lovely.**

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><p><strong>Jasper:<strong>

Edward shoved his way past Alice and I with his nose in the air. He wasn't used to taking second place in Carlisle's heart. Having Emmett picked over him fucked with his head and pissed him off to an unimaginable extent. The guy has problems.

Alice glanced up at me and rolled her eyes, as if to say, "See? I told you so."

"Fucking hell," I sighed, digging into my pocket and yanking out the keys. Reluctantly, I headed over to Edward and offered them to him. "Do you want to drive?"

Edward didn't answer. Instead, he sent a cruel glare, yanked open the door to the backseat, and slid into the car, slamming the door shut loudly behind him. _That_ made me angry. The prissy ass needed a good kick up the butt or a smack over the head. Maybe both... Too bad no one would ever give it to him.

"Asshole," I groaned, turning around and heading to the other side of the car to take the driver's seat. Alice chuckled at me as I passed.

"Watch it, Jasper. If the wind blows the wrong way, your face will be stuck in that scowl forever."

"Someone needs to wrench that stick out of Pretty Boy's ass," I spat.

Alice smirked. "It's been shoved in there so long that it has become embedded. You'll need a fucking jackhammer to pry it loose."

I couldn't help but laugh at Alice's expression. I nodded, grinned, and scratched my head, not replying as I headed towards the driver's seat. Alice slid into the passenger seat next to me. In the back, Edward looked like a grumpy child, completely ignoring his beloved fiancée.

Alice was sitting on the passenger seat, her knee pulled up to her chest, looking pissed off as fuck. After twenty minutes of completely awkward silence, Alice snapped, throwing her head around to glare at Edward, who was huffing and puffing as though he wanted to blow a fucking house down.

"Jesus Christ, Edward, stop moping around like a two year old. Carlisle wanted to ride with Emmett. He has been away in Afghanistanfor six months. Get the fuck over yourself. You're still his Golden Son. The crown won't be stolen from you after _one_ car ride."

Edward's green eyes snapped up to Alice's. The twins were so alike, yet so different. They both shared the same coloured, almond-shaped eyes – their mother's eyes, apparently – and both had a hard head and manipulative, cunning streak that could set you on edge. Other than that, they were completely different. Alice was light, cheery and flighty. Edward was dark, solemn and menacing. In that way they cancelled each other out and complemented each other perfectly, like yin and yang.

"No one asked for your opinion, _Mary Alice_. Shut up."

Edward was acting like a hormonal, rebellious, _angry-at-the-world-and-everyone-in-it_ teenager. Hell, he was acting like I did when I was fifteen years old. The only difference was that he was twenty-three, and not me.

Alice looked furious at his use of her full name. Her eyes narrowed into slits, and we all knew what was coming. Alice may not have been openly defiant of her father, but she wasn't afraid of bickering with Edward and telling him exactly what she thought of him. They _were_ siblings, after all. Fuck, they shared a womb for nine months. Only this time, she seemed _abnormally _angry at him – angrier and more serious about it than she had ever been.

"And no one asked for a grunting monologue of your internal dramatics. We don't give a _shit_ if you're pissed off that _Daddy _didn't smile, pat you on the back and give you a gold star on your attitude for the day. Get the fuck over it and be a man about it. You're not the most important thing to walk this earth, despite the silver spoon shoved down your throat telling you otherwise."

If I didn't know better than to stick my head into their argument, I would have applauded Alice. She certainly had a way with words when it came to telling off her brother.

"I am _not _angry about that," Edward growled.

"Could have fooled me," Alice chimed.

"Well you _are_ completely gullible and idiotic," Edward snarled.

That was the end of the tether for Alice. I had to roll my eyes as soon as he spoke. The guy certainly knew how to put his foot in his mouth. Alice did not stand to be insulted. Her fiery temper was an endless source of entertainment. I guess it came with the territory of being the youngest girl to two big brothers and an over-protective father. She had to protect her own. For the Cullen family, saving face was everything. If you didn't have your pride, you didn't have shit.

Alice jumped up in her seat and turned around, glaring at her brother. "You're such a pretentious prick, Edward. Stop acting like you're not completely transparent. Everyone knows that you want to be Daddy's little prince. _Pretending _like you don't give a shit isn't fooling anyone. And frankly, I'm sick to death of seeing you kiss his ass."

"At least I _give a shit_ about Dad!" Edward roared. "I'm _here_, while you're off trotting around in New York like the entire _world_ revolves around _you_, without even a care for him or this _family_! At least I _care_. Hell, you wouldn't even be _in _New York, doing what you are doing, without Dad, and you act like we don't even exist! At least _I'm_ still here for him! At least I _stayed_!"

I had never seen Alice and Edward fight like that before – or, more to the point, _about that_ before. Tanya looked terrified. She clearly was not fully prepared for what marrying into the Cullen family actually _entailed_.

Alice scoffed at his claim. "That's bullshit. You went to Harvard. You just spent _months_ in fucking Australia. _You_ left, just like I did."

"At least I came _back_!" Edward snapped. "I was back for _every single holiday_. You hardly even came home for the summer."

These two certainly were going at it. I had never seen them fight about things like this so blatantly before. I mean, sure, I had heard them fight about their father and everything behind closed doors with their voices muffled, but never with anyone else to witness it. Of course, sometimes Emmett was with them, but it was never like _this_. I didn't know what was up. Had I missed some sort of dramatic event while I was still in Seattle earlier in the week? Was the stress of Emmett coming home getting to them? Or was it something else entirely? I had no idea. At all.

Generally, I would have let them fight it out and let it be, but fuck if I was going to listen to their bickering all the way back to Forks. This shit could just not go on. Nor was I going to let them continue this argument into the house and completely fuck up Emmett's welcome and consequently break Rosalie's heart. In a very rare move for me, I had to play _peacemaker_, not catalyst.

"Okay, you two, quit the shit. If you want to fight, do it in your own time when your brother has _not_ just gotten home from a six month deployment. He doesn't need your crap right now, so stop it now and don't bring it back to the house."

Both Alice and Edward looked shocked. Alice shut her trap and half smiled at me, amused. Edward wasn't so happy.

"No one asked for _your _opinion," he growled.

I had to resist the temptation to laugh. "What are you; twelve? Get over yourself, Cullen. This weekend is not about you, and we are not about to listen to you two yelling for the next half hour."

"If you don't like it, fuck off back to the hole you crawled out of. None of us want you here. Quit trying to act like you belong."

That almost set me over the edge. It almost had me slamming on the breaks and throwing a punch at his face. It almost had me letting Edward know _exactly _what I thought about him, everything he had just said, his family and this weekend. But, with a thought to Rosalie and that one word: _behave_, and also a thought to the fact that I _refused _to sink to his level, and would be the better man about it all, I bit my tongue and swallowed my anger.

"I don't care what you think or feel about me," I said calmly. "What I do care about is Rosalie, Emmett and that baby. Having you guys stirring up arguments and trouble will not be good for them. You love your brother. You care about Rosalie and that kid. Pull your head in, just for a few days, get the fuck _over yourself_, and do the right thing by them. I'm trying to."

Edward was about to protest – God knows he could never _agree_ with me – but it was Alice who put her hand up to stop him.

"No, you're right, Jasper. You are. I'm sorry," she admitted, although you could still see her temper flaring. She then sent a poignant look to Edward.

Edward slumped back in his chair, his jaw set. "Whatever."

:::

Dinner that night certainly was an interesting occurrence. Esme was playing doting mom and Carlisle was playing doting dad as though they actually suited the roles. Edward acted like a two year old on a sibling's birthday, jealous of all of the presents, and Tanya was condoning his behaviour by asking him what was wrong and fawning over his refusal to speak every two minutes. Emmett and Rosalie were completely and utterly caught in their own little love bubble, which was the one bright spark of the night. It felt like Alice and I were the only sane people there.

Alice nudged me in the shoulder as we sat at the table, watching the others with amusement. "So, c'mon, Jasper, you haven't told me anything about your life lately. How's Seattle treating you? You're still there, right, or have you moved on?"

"Seattle's fine. I'm fine. Everything's..._fine_."

"What line of work are you in now? Last time I talked to you, I think you were in...plumbing. How'd that go?"

"I'm painting now," I answered. "How about you? How's the big city treating you?"

"Fantastic," Alice beamed. "I never knew there was such a big world out there."

I smirked. "Surprises you, doesn't it."

"But you knew all along. Ever since I've known you, you've known."

Alice looked at me in that weird way that said that she knew something that I didn't. That look of hers always set me on edge.

"You must be happy to have Emmett home," I said, changing the subject. "Big bro's back."

Alice's smile was a breath of fresh air. Even though the family was fucked up, I loved the way that Emmett could brighten everyone's day.

"I've missed him," she said sincerely, glancing towards the head of the table, where Emmett, Esme, Carlisle and Rosalie were caught in conversation. "I've missed him a lot."

There was something else in her voice. "But...?"

Alice glanced tentatively from her plate, to the head of the table, and back to her plate. Something in her seemed to almost _break_. Some sort of spark was gone. "Do you really think my Dad cares about Emmett being home, or is this just another way to save face and gain prestige?"

I glanced over to the group, too. You couldn't doubt my mother and Rosalie's sincerity at all. They were fawning over Emmett with absolute love. But Carlisle...there was something cold in his eyes. His smile didn't reach them. He watched Esme and Rosalie's reactions a little too closely; possessively and critically, even.

I didn't know what to say to Alice. To me, in that moment, she seemed to be a little girl, begging for assurance that her parents weren't splitting up, some sort of hope resting on the promise that her family wasn't fucked up. She wasn't a young woman anymore. She was needy and hopeful and lost.

Against what I thought, and what I knew that she realised also, I told her what she wanted to hear.

"Of course he cares. Emmett is his son. He's ecstatic about him being home. Why wouldn't he be?"

:::

**Bella:**

I didn't know where to go on Friday, so I just wandered around aimlessly for what could have been hours, not focusing on anything and trying not to think about what had just happened, or what was going to happen. Somewhere along the road of trying to ignore the places I passed that brought back so many memories and trying to block out the memories that brought out so much pain, I arrived at the place that brought back the most pain of all. Charlie's old house. My old house, for a time.

The wooden exterior was blotched with moss and run down. The windows on the bottom and top story were boarded over with wooden planks. The lawn was long – up to my knees, at least – not mowed for years. What little garden there used to be was overrun with weeds. The driveway was cracked with age. Everything had lost its vitality. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. That was when I saw the worst change of all.

Painted in bright red paint on the white door was the cruellest word I could imagine. Some sick and twisted person had no doubt inscribed it, taking out their anger on Charlie, after his death, the coward.

_Traitor._

I stared at the word for a few moments, willing it away; willing for it to just be a hallucination. I blinked, but it didn't move. I looked away, and then back to it, but it was still there, as prominent and heartless as ever.

I couldn't help it then. Standing on the footpath outside my old house in the freezing drizzle, I fell to my knees and doubled over, sobbing, retching, feeling as though my heart had been ripped from my chest, tossed onto the asphalt, and crushed under foot by a hundred leather boots.

Shattered. The whole house was shattered. Everything that Charlie was, everything that he loved, everything that he held dear, was somehow represented in that house, and it was defiled. _Traitor_. Charlie wasn't a traitor. The only traitor was me.

Another bout of sobs hit me, and I sat there crying until I couldn't cry anymore; until my throat clogged up and my eyes were scrubbed dry and my cheeks felt raw with salty tears.

Even then, I couldn't help the dry retching sobs that rocked my body.

When Charlie died he left the house to me, but of course, I never came back to claim it. My mother had it emptied not long after. Some of his possessions were in storage, I had very few, she had some, and some others were donated to charity. I couldn't help with that. I couldn't bear seeing that house gutted like a fish. I was too broken, myself. I couldn't bare see Charlie's home torn apart from the seams. I suppose that's why I never went back, and although it belonged to me, I let the home rot here because I never had the guts to face the reality of what it was and what it became. Still, all this time later, I could barely stand going back to it. The year before had been the first time I had, but even then, I had only passed it in the car. I had never looked at it well enough to notice the red stain on the door.

_Traitor_.

Sometimes the cruelty of humanity truly startled me. Charlie was many things, but he was never, ever a traitor. In fact, he was the most honest, good natured, _good_ man I knew. Of course, it took me a long time to realise that, and when I did, I didn't have long enough to spend with him before he died.

_Traitor_. The word rang in my ears. Maybe Charlie wasn't the one who it was meant for. Maybe it was meant for me.

_Traitor_. Yes, the label fitted me better.

I took a step forward and felt like the wind was knocked out of me. It was the first time since his death that I had set foot on the property. The unnatural coldness – the feeling of being unwelcome – was so foreign that I almost turned and ran the other way. But I stopped myself, took another measured step, and another, and another, until I was standing in front of that door, my face twisted into a distorted version of myself. Then, with one swift kick, letting my anger at the vandals who painted such a horrid word on what was Charlie's safe place fill me, I forced open the door.

The inside took my breath away, and not in a good way. Stone cold, with a thick layer of dust coating everything, dark shadows cast across the ground; it wasn't the warm and welcoming home it used to be. It was as though when Charlie left, the whole soul of the place left too. In fact, that sounded just right.

It took me a long time to move from that spot. I swore that if I upset even one follicle of dust, I would be pounced on by some mysterious creature lurking deep in the shadows. Fear was my biggest enemy. Fear of everything. But then I heard Charlie's words, as clear as day, and thought for a moment that he wasn't actually dead.

"_Don't be afraid, Bells. The only thing we really have to fear is fear itself. Be brave, sweetheart."_

He had been coaxing me out from under my bedcovers at the time, when I was barely seven years old, because I was afraid of the thing in my closet. The instruction seemed even more poignant now.

I felt like a vulnerable child. I felt small and helpless. Desperately, I wished that my father would swoop in, scoop me up in his arms, like a shining superhero, and save me from everything that hurt so bad. I wanted to be seven years old again and naive to everything that could harm me. I wanted to still believe in fairytales and Prince Charming and that my Daddy could protect me from everything. I didn't want him to be gone. I wanted him. I wanted my hero back.

But then I heard his voice again, as bright as the sun, and for a moment I was nine and had just come home from the park in tears because a couple of boys had teased me.

"_You weren't there to help me, Daddy. I didn't know what to do. You needed to come save me," I snivelled, clutching at his legs. _

_Charlie had knelt down, so that his eyes were level with mine, because he had always looked so big. Back then, I thought my Dad was a superhero, with his Police Officer uniform. That's why he carried a gun, and why he saved people, and why I saw him so little, even when I was visiting. He could protect me from anything. He was a hero, a warrior, a fighter. He was my knight in shining armour. Or so I thought._

_His kind brown eyes with the laugh lines met mine, and I couldn't look away, even through my tears._

"_Bells," he said, his tone kind, "sometimes I can't be there to save you. But you know what I want you to try and do?"_

_I shook my head, my tears splattering onto my blue t-shirt, because I didn't have a clue._

"_I want you to be your own hero. You don't need anyone to save you but _you_."_

_I looked at him in utter confusion, because this was wrong, and he was so strong and I was so weak. "No, I need you, Daddy," I said. "I can't."_

_He shook his head and looked at me with wisdom beyond even his years. "Yes, you can, Bells. You're strong, you're intelligent, and you are brave. It's all in here." He pointed to my chest. My hand went there instinctively, looking up at him with disbelieving eyes. "The only person who can hurt you is you. Don't let anyone else try. You're your own hero."_

I had never understood him properly. Not really. Not when he was big and strong and I was small and weak and he was everything a hero was made of and I was nothing but a little girl. I wasn't strong like him. Back then, I didn't realise that strength didn't just come from your physique, but from somewhere in your heart, too.

Of course, I had eventually lost any strength I had when I was young, and I let Edward become my fake hero. It was the worst decision of my life.

With my father's words hanging in the air, I took a step, and then another, and another. Soon, I was in the living room, and the kitchen, and running my hands over every surface I could find, drawing in the faintest of smells that reminded me of home, remembering all the good times we had and forgetting all the bad. Then, I headed upstairs, to the bathroom we shared, where we had many arguments over allotted time in the morning and who used up the last of the soap and the toothpaste. Then I moved to my room, which was startlingly empty, and somehow this was comforting. I didn't spend much time in there, because it wasn't somewhere I particularly liked. After that, there was only one room left. Charlie's room.

It took me a long time to build up the courage to go inside. When I found this room empty, I felt astoundingly cheated. In here, I ran my fingers over every nock and cranny, imagining how Charlie had lived and thrived and breathed in there. It all brought back a choking feeling in my throat. Especially when I found the inscriptions on the doorframe in his closet.

The writing was faded with years of poor maintenance, but I could still see it clearly enough to make out. _Bella, age 1_. _Bella, age 2_. _Bella, age 3_. They were all running up the side, some with great leaps between them and some with smaller. My heights, at every age, carefully marked with loving care at every milestone. It went all the way up to 15, when I started dating Edward and demanded that he stop that stupid tradition. I remembered that day; the way a strange look of shooting pain had crossed his features, and the way I had noticed but ignored it, and the way he had been strangely silent for the rest of the day. Looking closer at every year, I saw that under every age, he had drawn a small heart. This hurt most of all. Charlie was never a sentimental, emotional man. These little markings on the doorframe meant the world.

And, like everything else, I had ruined it.

I felt the dry sobs rock my body again. I had to catch myself on the doorframe to stop myself from falling over. I felt strangely cold, ice shooting through my veins. That was when I saw it.

The names were very, very faint, and there were only two of them, but they were clear as day. One said _Renee, 1987_. The year I was born. The other, just a little bit above it, said _Renee, 1988_. The year I turned one. There was no _1989_. I guessed their relationship was too rocky at that point to bother. But it still shocked me. And then it kicked my guilt into hyper-drive.

I wasn't the only one who lost someone I loved. I wasn't the only one hurt, torn apart and broken by Charlie's death. Sure, my mother had remarried, but she had still loved Charlie at one point, so much. Of all people, I knew well that you could never just _forget_ that. They had had a child together. They had married. They had been blissfully happy, if even only for a few years. They had been in love, and had shared a life. They had been more than just a high school couple, and remembering how well my break up with my high school love had broken me, I knew that I had been wrong about my mother.

I was wrong to judge her, and to blame her, and to point fingers. She was hurting more than I had ever realised. Of course she was. I was just too blind and selfish to see it. She was hurting just as much as me, just in a different and equally unexplainable and unfathomable way. And although our family was broken, there were still threads there that held it together slightly. I would do anything to save those threads.

Carefully, I kissed the doorframe that my father had poured his heart over and ran from that house, back towards my mother. I had already lost one parent, and that was too much for anyone to have to handle. I wasn't going to lose my mother too. I wasn't going to break her and reject her like I had done with Charlie. Not anymore. That had ended with dire consequences that I didn't want to relive, no matter what.

:::

My mother forgave me quickly. I never expected her to. In fact, I wanted her to hate me. I wanted her to scream and yell like I had and let out her pain instead of bundling it inside. But all she did was hug me, as if I was a child again, even though she had never hugged me like that when I actually was a child. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were stained with tears. That night, we didn't do much. When I tried to apologise, she didn't let me. When she tried to apologise to me, for something completely unnecessary, I didn't let her. Eventually we both gave in and spent the time relaxing, eating our dinner, and finally settling down for the night. The next day was the twenty-second – the anniversary of Charlie's death.

On Saturday morning we woke, dressed, and then ate breakfast down at the diner. We were largely silent as we ate. By the time we left it was nearing eleven o'clock, and there was a glimmer of sun shining through the light grey clouds bobbing in the sky. It even seemed that it might not rain. The thought pleased me. I ached to find a slice of sunlight to warm my bones.

It was an unspoken agreement that had us driving towards the cemetery that day. My mother was silent behind the wheel, and I sat in the passenger seat, clutching a bouquet of roses in my hands, trying not to look out onto the streets. I felt like we were back in the funeral procession again. It wasn't a nice feeling.

When we arrived at the cemetery on the outskirts of town my mother parked the car in the empty lot and we both got out. We had dressed for the occasion. My mother had insisted on it. I felt strange in that stiff black dress and plain black heels; unnatural, even. My mother was dressed in a black pencil skirt and a pretty black blouse with white detailing. I almost felt like we were heading into a business meeting.

My mother busied herself with straightening her skirt and reapplying her lipstick as we stood outside the gate rickety. We were completely overdressed for the occasion. The cemetery was small, with overgrown wild flowers and aging headstones which dated back a century. I felt like ripping off my shoes, slouching on a hoodie, unclipping my hair and running through the woods, rubbing mud over my skin to scratch away the plastic-like feeling. I was even wearing make-up. It scratched at my skin. But I couldn't. It wasn't proper.

My mother grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight, cutting off the circulation, as we walked towards the gate. It creaked mercilessly as it swung open, desperately in need of oiling. We walked slowly through the rows and rows of headstones. Charlie was buried in one of the back rows, near the woods and an old, beautiful oak tree.

When I spotted the old oak, I had to fight the feeling to run towards it, clamber up, and hideaway in its sturdy branches and luscious leaves. It was only my mother's hand which was keeping me planted firmly on the ground.

We walked towards the grave in utter silence. Occasionally, I heard my mother's soft whimpers, and felt her hand grip mine just that little bit tighter. I refused to let myself cry. I fought away the feeling of something being caught in my throat and the constricting sensation in my chest. I had to focus, not give in. Charlie wanted me to be my own hero. He wanted me to be strong. He didn't want me to cry.

The headstone was rectangular, black and had a few white words carved into its cold surface which seemed lacklustre, at best.

_Charlie Swan  
>2<em>_nd__ January 1964 – 22__nd__ January 2008  
>Beloved father, husband and friend.<br>He is dearly missed._

_Dearly missed_. _Beloved_. These words didn't even come close to describing Charlie. They didn't capture him, or who he truly was. But of course, I couldn't complain. I had had nothing to do with their creation. I had had barely anything to do with anything regarding Charlie's death that year. I was barely able to look after myself. I was weak. I was catatonic. I wasn't there, for anyone. Especially my mother.

I knelt down and placed the roses on Charlie's grave. Bent over, I felt light-headed, like I was about to lose my balance and faint over his grave. I had to steady myself on his headstone. It all felt too ironic. Even in death, he was keeping me upright.

I shuddered as I placed the roses down. Roses weren't his flower. He was a wild flower, a fern, an apple tree. Roses were too perfect, not passionate enough. _Too common_. I imagined how close I was to him, his body buried death beneath the earth's surface, rotting, and for a moment I wondered what he had become. What was he, after years in the dirt, with all life and soul drained from his body? What did he look like, once the life left his eyes and the spark left his heart? Did he still have calloused fingers, a kind smile? Were his laugh lines gone, too?

I couldn't stand the thought of it. This wasn't where he was supposed to be. Charlie was never dead, not lifeless. I was. I was the shell. Even alive, I was a shell of a person. He should have lived. I should have died. He did more for the world than I ever could.

My mother knelt down then, placing her hands on the cold stone, kissing her fingers and tracing his name:_ Charlie Swan_. What was she thinking? Did she still love him? She had Phil then, of course. He was her husband. But what did she feel for Charlie, after all these years? What kind of love was it? What kind of love was it that brought her to her knees with breathtaking sobs in the middle of a cemetery?

My mother started speaking, telling Charlie how much she missed him and loved him and everything that was good about him. I should have spoken too. When she was done, she looked at me too, but I couldn't manage it. Only one word came, and it meant nothing.

"Yeah."

I wasn't the one who was good with words. Charlie was. He was the poet, the musician, the one who could capture anyone's attention with a single phrase. He was the magician. I was nothing but a peasant, an admirer, a plain girl who lived in awe of her father.

How could I put all I felt into words? How could I tell him how much he meant to me, and how sorry I was for letting him down, and betraying him, and giving up, and letting myself fall so far? How could I explain how much I wished I could rewind time, explain how much he really meant to me, and how horrible and vile I felt because I had never told him that I loved him and never showed him near the amount of dedication he had shown me on that doorframe in his room? It was such a simple thing to say to a father, but I never had. How could I ever put into words everything that he needed to hear?

I couldn't. That was the simple truth. I was never good enough for it. I didn't have the magic that he had. I just...couldn't. Words failed me. I was never good with them.

My mother looked at me, wondering what else I would say, but I couldn't muster anything. I felt tears starting to sting my eyes, begging to be shed, but I couldn't let them. Shaking her hand away, I looked down to my feet. My feet ached in my high heel shoes. My uncomfortable dress itched and pulled me tight. I couldn't breathe.

We stood there for two hours, at least, my mother saying her final goodbyes and me trying to avoid them. She tried to coax words out of me, but I didn't let anything but a simple "Yes" or "No" out. I feared that if I tried anything else, I might breakdown.

Eventually we left. I don't remember how long we were there, or what time it was when we returned to the car, or even when we arrived back at the motel. All I know was that when we did, I threw myself onto my bed and let sleep envelop me, only waking to head out to the diner for dinner a few hours later. When that was done, and we were back in our motel room, I felt like I would never sleep again.

:::

**Jasper:**

Saturday wasn't an easy day. That could be the understatement of the century. Dealing with Carlisle's passive aggressive shit which I couldn't respond to for fear of hurting Rosalie and Emmett, Edward's sour expression and poor forgotten son attitude, Esme's doting-mom act and Tanya's complete obliviousness to the obvious _fuckery_ that was our family was too much to handle on a good day. Add that with the anniversary of Charlie's death, which no one but Rosalie and I remembered – which subjected me to a heart-to-heart early in the day about it all – meant that I was about bursting at the seams once I retired to my motel room for the night. All I could do was keep saying to myself: _It's just one more day. Just one more day, Jasper, and then you're free. Do it for Rosie, and Emmett, and that baby. Just do it for them. Man up._

Easier said than done.

I felt like shit that night. I lay awake on the bed, tossing and turning, tangled in a mess of hot sheets. Forks was freezing cold, but I felt like I was down in Texas in the middle of summer. Everything felt humid and cloggy. I couldn't settle. I was uncomfortable. The sheets stuck to my sweaty skin and the room felt like it was on fire. Eventually, I gave up, and went to the bathroom, trying to cool myself off with cold water. Even that didn't work.

I should have caught on straight away to what I needed to do. It was as though my subconscious was telling me to get my act together. It didn't want me to settle, because I hadn't done everything I needed to that day.

Shrugging on my jeans, a black t-shirt, and a pair of shoes, I grabbed my guitar and my keys and headed out into the night.

It was about ten o'clock, and the cemetery was on the outskirts of town. I passed the diner, where teenagers were having a feed before heading out to occupy themselves for the night, and the bar where middle-aged men were watching a football game on the wide screen. The road out to the cemetery was empty, and I slammed the accelerator to the floor to get there sooner.

The cemetery was dark and lit by the moonlight just enough for me to see where I was going. The air was chilly, and I felt goosebumps rise across my skin. _Should have brought a jacket_.

The gate into the cemetery was in great need of oiling. Walking through the rows and rows of mossy headstones was eerie. Charlie's headstone, although in the back, stuck out like a sore thumb under the old oak tree near the forest line. This cemetery was the old one in town. Charlie's grave had been the last one dug before the space ran out and they started a new one on the other side of town, with a grounds person and footpaths and well-kept gardens and people you could pay to look after your headstone and grieve over your loved one for you. The thought repulsed me. I was glad that Charlie wasn't there. He belonged here, in a place of history, with headstones dating back to the 1800s, overgrown wildflowers, luscious woods and an old oak tree bending over him, as though guarding him.

He belonged there.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He really belonged _above ground_, breathing, living, thriving. He belonged with the living. But in death, he belonged there, somewhere with character. If anyone can actually ever really _belong_ somewhere in death.

I found his headstone soon enough. Rectangular, black, with white words etched into it; words that tried to summarise him, but failed miserably. _Beloved father, husband and friend. He is dearly missed_. I scoffed at them; scoffed at the thought that these words pretended like no one had given up on him and abandoned him. Like this whole town hadn't turned on him. Like people actually _gave a shit_ that he was dead. These words tried to summarise his life, but they did nothing but insult him. _Beloved_. _Dearly missed_. They didn't even come close to showing who Charlie truly was, and what he was. No words could make sense of it. It was an insult to even try.

He wasn't just fucking _beloved_. He was so much more than that.

The headstone was cold. The white on black was too clear cut, administrative, business-like. It was a fucking tragedy. It wasn't Charlie. Not the Charlie I knew.

For a moment I thought back to my own father's headstone down in Texas. Blinding white, small and rectangular, dead straight, one in the hundreds upon hundreds buried there, rows upon rows upon rows, as far as the eye could see. There was nothing distinguishing about his headstone. I could recall the words etched into them as if it was only yesterday that I saw them last.

_Hale James Whitlock.  
>1<em>_st__ March 1962 – 23__rd__ December 1999  
>Killed in Action.<em>

_Killed in action._ Yeah. That's all it said. _Killed in action_. As if that was his whole life. As if he didn't have two kids, or a wife, or a fucking home. As if he was just another pawn in their game. He may as well have been. He was buried like one. One in the hundreds. The same headstone, the same lines, same rows, same perfectly manicured cemeteries.

I was twelve when he died. I was twenty when Charlie died. Both had hurt just as much, and both were just as inhumane and unfair.

Barely a year after my father died, my mother started fucking Carlisle once we moved to Forks. Of course, we didn't find out _officially_ until Freshman year, when they got engaged, but I knew after the first week of being here that they were together. It's hard to miss when you walk in on them in your mother's room. Then when Charlie died, Carlisle treated it as though it was a relief – as if the world was rid of some disease. Of course, he didn't kill him. He didn't have a hand in it, directly at least. But what he did to him years before – how he destroyed his life here – didn't help. Carlisle made damn sure Charlie had nobody there for him, like he made damn sure that my father had nobody left to grieve his loss by fucking my mother's brains out six months afterwards.

Well, he made sure everyone forgot except me. I was always there to remember them, even if Carlisle tried to make sure that I wasn't.

I approached Charlie's grave awkwardly, scratching the back of my head, my guitar slung behind my back. I went to speak, as though he could hear me, but then backtracked. He couldn't hear me. I was being pathetic.

But I had an overwhelming want to talk to him. I _needed_ to talk to him. Tentatively, I looked around the cemetery. There wasn't another living soul in sight. Just me, Charlie, and nature. Taking a deep breath, I brought my guitar over my shoulder and lowered it down on the ground as I sat next to him.

"I – uh – didn't bring any flowers. I'm sorry. But I – well – I brought you something else."

I went to pick up my guitar when I saw them – a bouquet of red roses lying below his headstone. Flowers. Who would have brought him flowers?

The realisation hit me like a bullet train.

_Bella_. Bella must be in town. Of course she would be in town. Why hadn't I realised it before? It was his anniversary, after all.

Bella was in town.

I started to worry then. What if she caught me near Charlie? What if we ran into each other in town? What if she ran into Edward or Alice or Rosalie or Emmett or Esme or Tanya or, God forbid, Carlisle? What _then_?

But that fear subsided soon when I looked down at the roses again. I imagined her laying them there, silent tears rolling down her cheeks, a pain like the one I was feeling, only worse, ripping through her heart. I imagined her clutching at her chest, her eyes puffy and her cheeks red with tears. I imagined how alone and lost she must have been feeling.

At that moment, I didn't care about Edward or Carlisle or anyone else. I just cared about Bella. I cared about wanting to find her, and comfort her, and tell her that everything was okay and that I understood what she was feeling and that I would be there for her if she needed me and that she wasn't _alone_. Because I knew what it felt like to be alone. And I wanted to tell her that there hadn't been any other girls and that she didn't need to cry and that I had loved Charlie, too, and not everyone had forgotten about him.

I wanted to tell her all those things, but then I didn't want to tell her any of them at all. I felt like my chest was folding in on itself, constricting. There was a lump caught in my throat at the thought of it all, because I knew that I couldn't do any of it.

It wasn't that I loved her. Christ, I didn't _love_ her. I just cared for her. I felt linked to her, like Charlie was something that we both shared. I didn't want to profess my undying love or some shit. I just wanted to make her feel better and show her that she wasn't alone. Maybe it would help me realise that I wasn't alone, either.

I picked up my guitar then. Behind me, I could hear the dull, peaceful chirping of birds in the oak tree. There couldn't have been a more perfect background noise for this.

I plucked at a few strings, soft, and started to sing, low and quiet.

"_Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise..."_

I was thinking of singing November Rain, but this song seemed more fitting. I remembered when we had first shared that song. It had been the second time we had met.

_I was sitting in Charlie's living room, angry and hostile. He was smiling at me knowingly. Even then, I could feel his kind eyes softening me._

"_So, Jasper, what do you want to play?" he asked._

_I looked at him, sullen. "I don't know, you tell me."_

_He peered at me closely. "What's on your mind?"_

"_Wouldn't you like to know?"_

_Charlie laughed. That startled me. Normally, if I had spoken like that to Carlisle, I would have been struck with the back of his fist. I readied myself for the blow, but it didn't come._

"_I saw your artwork on the fence around the fountain Carlisle donated at the square. You're very talented with a spray can," he said._

_I narrowed my eyes, steaming. "You can't prove that was me."_

_Charlie smiled knowingly. I hated the fact that I wasn't getting to him; that he wasn't shaken at all. "I don't want to prove it was you," he said. "Although Carlisle would certainly like me to find the culprit."_

"_Carlisle can go fuck himself," I hissed._

_Charlie looked at me for a few moments, as if seeing straight through me. "Rebel without a cause? You against the world? You'll give in when you're dead?"_

"_Something like that," I snarled._

_Charlie nodded, watching me for a few more moments. I always wondered about how perceptive he was. How did he do it?_

_A little while later, he reached down to his feet and grabbed his guitar. "I'm going to play a song. Join in if you feel like it."_

_And then he had started to play Blackbird, and I was caught. I watched his calloused hands dance over the strings and felt, for the first time since my father had died, that I might cry. I had to swallow back my tears and the thick lump in my throat. It was my father's song. It was the song he sang to me as a lullaby. It was the song that he loved, and the song I put on the mixed tape I made for him to take on deployment for his last tour. Hearing it again almost killed me._

_Charlie had finished the song, and I was unable to move. His kind brown eyes were watching me carefully. I swore that he knew what I was feeling. I swore he understood whose song it was. _

_He looped around again, flowing into the song once more, and I yanked my eyes up to look at him. This time, I wasn't the hard-headed, rebellious teenager I wanted to be, and he wasn't the cop I was suspicious of. I was a broken boy who had lost his father and Charlie was the man who understood it all._

_My hands were shaking as I picked up my beaten guitar and played along. My voice was choked as we sang, and we looped around and around the song well into the night, never breaking, never uttering another word other than the lyrics._

_When I left, it dawned on me, what he meant. My life may have been dark then, but he was telling me that I could fly away, if I wanted to. I could learn to fly, learn to see, I would have a moment to be free. I didn't have to fight all the time. I didn't have to wallow in Forks. I could fly, be better, do other things, escape._

_It only took one single song for him to show me that._

When I finished the song I didn't stop playing. I continued plucking at light strings, tentative, feeling like we needed a little background music to this conversation.

"I...I guess I never got away. Not really. I mean, I tried," I said, looking down to the blades of grass around me. "I'm still trying. I...I won't stop. I'll do it for you. It's just...Rosalie's got the baby. I had to come back."

I could imagine Charlie raising an eyebrow. _"Had to?"_ he'd ask. _"You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Jasper."_

"I know that. It's just...he's got my family," I said. I stopped playing and ran a hand over my face, stressed. Then I let out a short laugh. "If...if you saw me now, you probably wouldn't be too happy with me," I chuckled. "In fact, you'd probably yell at me. A lot. I...I kind of had sex with your daughter. More than once. Three times, I think. I mean, we've kind of agreed to make it a thing now. Except I also kind of hurt her, because she thinks I cheated on her, so I don't know if it's a thing anymore. But it wouldn't even be cheating. And I didn't even actually cheat. She just thinks I did. But...I also didn't tell her that."

I buried my face in my hands and let out a growl. "Ugh. This isn't making any sense. I know I shouldn't have done it. I mean, you probably hate me. It's just...I wanted...wait, no, you probably don't want to hear that."

I had never been good with words. At least not like this. Music, maybe, but not conversation. My mind wasn't wired right.

I gave up trying to explain my life. Letting my hands down, I looked straight at his name, sadness filling me.

"I just really kind of miss you, Charlie."

I felt a hot tear tumble down my cheek, even though I didn't know I was crying. My palms went to the cold earth, knowing that he was there, somewhere, six feet under, listening, somehow. I wanted to scream at the world for taking him away, but I also wanted to double over and sob and curse because I felt so damn _broken_.

But I couldn't, because as I curled my fingers around the blades of grass on his grave, Bella's voice hit me.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

:::

**Bella:**

It was ten o'clock at night. My mother was sleeping heavily in her bed. I couldn't even shut my eyes. I couldn't pick what was troubling me, until I remembered the roses.

Roses weren't Charlie. It was bothering me more than was natural. I felt like I had an itch that I couldn't scratch. So, as my mother slumbered, I slipped out of bed, put on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, and headed out towards the cemetery again.

When I arrived at the cemetery another car was already there. I should have immediately been set on edge then, but I wasn't. I just assumed that someone had left it there to be picked up later. Who else would be at this old cemetery so late at night?

Before I went through the gate I went towards the wildflowers and picked some – bright greens and purples and blues and pinks – and tied them together with a brown ribbon I had. They seemed more fitting for Charlie's grave.

As I walked towards the gate, I could hear what I thought was the dull plucking of strings. If nothing else stopped me, this should have, but of course, it didn't. For a moment, I thought it was some sort of sign that my father was still around. Either _that,_ or I was just hearing things. If anything, it made me walk faster.

Only when I heard the dull murmurs of a voice did I stop.

I was nearly at the headstone when I saw him. A person was sitting next to Charlie's grave, a guitar in their hands, their blonde, unruly curls sticking out in the moonlight. I realised who it was eventually, and anger spiked in me so red hot that I almost crushed the flowers in my palm.

"I just really kind of miss you, Charlie," he said, and I heard his voice break. That was it.

How dare he be there, that weekend, of all days? _Him_. Jasper was a lot of things, but I never thought he would do this. After his family _destroyed_ mine, he had the _nerve_ to turn up at my father's grave and act like he actually gave a shit about him.

I hated him.

I stormed forward, wanting to yell and scream and hit him. Jasper heard me just before I spoke.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

Jasper jumped up, his guitar dangling at his side, wide-eyed and shocked. I was just as startled as he was.

"Bella," he breathed.

I was breathing heavily. I didn't know where to look. I felt like, if I could, I would be breathing fire.

"What are you doing here?" I repeated, staring at him, my eyes stinging, and I shut them forcefully, willing the tears away.

"I...I was just..."

Jasper couldn't find the words. Some sort of pain ripped across his features. My temper flared.

"You can't be here," I told him.

Jasper looked to his feet, giving a sharp nod. "Okay. I'm sorry."

Jasper turned to leave. I was planted in the spot, still shocked. When he started to weave between the rows, heading towards the gate, it felt like some sort of warmth had left the area. Before I knew what I was doing, I turned to him and shouted.

"Jasper! Wait, stop!"

Jasper stopped and turned around, his guitar slung over his back. I struggled to find the right words.

"I'm sorry. You – uh – you don't have to leave. Come...come back."

Jasper watched me for a few moments, unmoving, unsure. After what seemed like hours, he nodded, and took slow steps back to me.

He stopped a few feet away from me, on the other side of the grave. I didn't know what to do next, and clearly neither did he. Searching for something to say, I glanced at his guitar.

"Was that you – playing?"

Jasper turned his head and looked at his guitar, too. He nodded once and looked back at me. "Yeah."

"Why?"

Jasper was watching me unnervingly carefully. I toyed with the wildflowers in my hand as he figured out what to say. When he finally did say it, something in my stomach caught, as though I had had an inkling about it all along.

"We used to play...together...your Dad and me."

I nodded, gulped, and turned towards the headstone. When I did, I couldn't look away. Jasper stirred uneasily.

"I'll, just, leave you in peace," he excused.

He turned to leave again, his converse crunching the twigs on the ground as he went to leave. My words left me before I could catch them, again.

"No, please, don't go."

Jasper stopped, and when my eyes caught his he was nothing but shocked. "What?" he whispered.

I took a steadying breath. "Stay," I repeated. I took shaky steps towards the grave, and sat down beside it, folding my legs. "T-tell me about it."

Jasper watched me sit, and after a few moments stillness, moved to do the same. He sat on the other side of the grave, laying his guitar down beside him. His blue eyes were startlingly powerful in the moonlight.

"W-what were you playing?" I breathed, nodding towards his guitar.

Jasper's fingers were on the neck, subconsciously twiddling with the strings, as if he could never really let it go. "Um...Blackbird, by The Beatles."

I couldn't stop my smile then, looking back to the grave and the wildflowers sitting in my lap. Precariously, I placed them down on the grassy mound of his grave, feeling contempt. "Charlie loved The Beatles."

"Hey Jude, right?"

I looked up to Jasper, and I couldn't help but smile and nod, remembering the night that he had heard me play it. "You remember."

"Of course," he said.

"Your Dad didn't really teach you November Rain, did he?" I asked.

Jasper shook his head. "No. Your Dad did."

The question came without a thought. "Why? How?"

I couldn't suppress my curiosity at the subject. I wanted to know everything. I wanted to know how Jasper had come to share so much with my father, why my father had done it, and how come I had never known, after all these years.

Jasper chuckled breathlessly, as if watching some fond memory. "It was sort of a...intervention."

I quirked my head to the side, curious, begging him to continue. Jasper caught my eyes for a split second, before looking back to the grass, thumbing a deep chord with his thumb, on the neck of his guitar.

"I was a trouble-maker, as you well know. He, um, found me playing one day, down at First Beach. He was coming to tell me off for starting an illegal bonfire on the beach but...he heard me playing, and then we started talking, and...he used it to try to get through to me."

"Get through to you?"

Jasper tossed away a pebble that was lying on the side of the grave. It clattered against another headstone. "Show me that there is more to life than just shoving it to Carlisle every chance I got."

"He tried to set you on the straight and narrow?"

Jasper winced at the question. "Not...not the straight and narrow, _exactly_. Just...he tried to open my eyes, and show me what else was out there. What else I could do."

Even if Jasper's words didn't make complete sense, his expression did. There was something very strong in his eyes – a deep connection with my father. It both intrigued me, and thoroughly rattled me to the bone.

Then I realised it. My father did exactly what he did for Jasper, for me, too. He never discouraged my fight, my rebellious streak, _my fire_. He just tried to open my eyes, and point me down a different path if I went astray. He tried to guide me, not stifle me. He acted like a father to me.

And he acted like a father to Jasper; a father that Jasper didn't have at the time, because he had lost his father when he was young.

I nodded, and Jasper saw that I understood the meaning that was between the lines.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he said then. There was some sort of meaning between those words, too.

I was still shocked to find these things out about Jasper. "Don't be."

"I should have told you."

"You never had the chance," I said.

It was all starting to click into place a little better; Jasper's utter hate of his family, the fight he put up after Carlisle had my father ostracised, Jasper's absolute anger at Edward, his mysterious and aloof veneer, the way he had looked at me that night when we both played the guitar. Jasper had tried to fight for my father, too, because he had loved him.

"That's why you left," I said then.

Jasper frowned at me. "When did I leave?"

A lump forced itself into my throat, and I had to steady myself with a deep breath. "After I left, at the beginning of senior year, when –" I couldn't bring myself to say it – "when it all happened. Angela told me that you left school – that you went off the rails – and that you didn't come back until that March."

"I suppose you could say that," Jasper said, looking at the ground.

"Why did you – not come back, that is?"

Jasper didn't look at me as he answered. "I gave up."

He looked broken as he said this. The scene startled me. I had never seen Jasper look vulnerable. I had never thought of him as vulnerable. He had always been such a strong person, a person who would always fight, and fight to the grave. He would go down swinging. Especially back in high school, I didn't see Jasper as anything other than a fighter, always on fire, trying to make it catch everyone else, trying to stir us into protest. The image of him broken and beaten, giving in, like I had, was almost unrecognisable in my mind. It was impossible. He was always the strong one, the warrior, the rebel. The thought that he cared about my father that much was startling. But yet, I completely understood.

_Don't worry. I gave up too,_ I thought.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he said then. It sounded almost too sincere – too deep, like there was something difficult that he wanted to lead on to. I wouldn't let him.

"Could you play it for me?" I asked.

He looked startled. "Play what?"

"Blackbird."

Jasper looked at me hesitantly, and for a moment I thought I had asked for too much. I went to tell him that it was okay, and that I didn't expect him to share something so personal with me. The thought that Jasper had known my father so well was still unsettling me. It didn't quite fit right, but in a way, I knew that it would fit perfectly. I just had to get used to it, and understand it.

But Jasper didn't protest, and when I went to tell him he didn't need to play, he picked up his guitar and said that he would.

"Yeah, sure, alright."

The tune was soft, minimal and beautiful. I had to refrain from singing along. The sounds of the woods behind us were a perfect backdrop. Jasper was lost in it. When he finished, it was as though he was resurfacing from a dream. It was all so moving. I couldn't help imagining Charlie listen to Jasper playing this exact song, imagining the good times they would have had, imagining how much Charlie would have cared for him. It caused a funny feeling to radiate through me.

My silence when he finished made Jasper nervous.

"A-are you okay, Bella?"

A tingling sensation ran up my spine, and I shook myself back into the presence. I sounded almost desperate as I asked him, "What was he like?"

Jasper looked utterly lost in my thought process. "You knew him better than I did."

"No," I shook my head. "Not when you knew him. I didn't...I didn't know him then. I didn't pay attention."

Jasper watched me carefully. "He loved you, Bella. More than anything," he said, and although it wasn't what I asked, somehow, it was exactly what I needed to hear.

I didn't speak. An overwhelming sense of guilt filled me, and I looked towards the black headstone again, imagining that I could telepathically speak to my father.

_I'm sorry, Dad, for abandoning you_, I said, even though there was no chance that he could hear me.

After a few moments I forced myself back into the present. I couldn't let myself drift off into the abyss when Jasper was right there.

Eventually, I forced a question out. "How did it work – you and him talking? I never even knew."

"No one did," Jasper said. "I didn't want them to. I just went to your house to meet him, sometimes. We would play. He did most of the talking."

A look of regret flashed across his eyes. I nodded.

"You're taking this surprisingly well," Jasper said then.

My eyes flashed up to him. "What?"

"I just...didn't expect it to go down this easy, after everything my family did to yours."

I shrugged. It really wasn't going down that easy, but I knew that I had to accept it, so I didn't let Jasper on to my internal struggle.

"You were there for him when I wasn't," I said, trying to explain what I thought about it all. "I was too busy with Edward. You made my father happy when I didn't care to. I can't resent you for that. I...I have to thank you for it. It kind of even...helps. Helps with what happened. You were on his side."

"You make it sound so honourable," Jasper scoffed. "It wasn't. I didn't make him happy. He made _me _happy. At the beginning, I resented him more than anything. I treated him horribly. You can't thank me for that."

Jasper resented nearly everything, so this wasn't exactly a surprise. The _more than anything_ part was, though.

"Why?" I asked.

Jasper looked like he was fighting an internal battle. Beside his thigh, his hand yanked out a dozen blades of grass. "Because he was too good."

I still didn't understand. I gave Jasper a look which asked him to continue.

"I hated him because I couldn't hate him," he said. "He wasn't an asshole cop like half the force, and he wasn't anything like Carlisle or any of the other dim-witted adults in town. He understood me. And I didn't want to be understood. He made me want to scream, because he got me so well. I felt..."

"Vulnerable," I finished.

Jasper's eyes met mine. "Exactly."

I nodded, and glanced to the grassy earth. "He had that effect on people."

"But you know what was worse?" Jasper asked after a few moments.

"What?"

"He reminded me of my father. That killed me the most."

Silence. I had never felt so in touch with what Jasper was thinking before. I couldn't help but continue his train of thought.

"Because he could never be your father, and you could never get that back," I finished, speaking to myself more than anything. I had a similar feeling towards Angela's father. He was kind, caring, compassionate, a good man. He was like Charlie, and I was jealous of that, because he could never be my father, and I could never have a father like that again.

"Yeah," Jasper nodded, before falling silent.

"Is that why you hated me so much?" I asked then.

Jasper's head whipped up and his eyes met mine, absolutely startled. I just looked at him plainly. I hadn't asked it in judgement or spite. I just finally understood, and completely accepted it. I would have hated me, too.

Jasper saw that I meant no harm with my question, and neither of us could deny the truth. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. It's just, you..."

He went to justify himself, but I didn't need him to. "I had the father that you wanted, but could never have, and I never appreciated that."

"You appreciated him," he tried to assure me.

"Not as much as I should have."

We both fell silent. It was amazing, this. We were finally communicating properly. Too bad it had to be over my father's grave.

Eventually, Jasper laughed, which seemed so odd in the situation. He bowed his head, his unruly curls falling over his face, and against my best instincts, I couldn't help but smile in the amusement of it.

"What is it?" I asked.

Jasper glanced up at me, his bright blue eyes seeming even brighter than before, and he grinned widely. "I can't get over how well you are taking this."

I feigned offense. "Am I supposed to get angry and take a swipe at you?" I asked, trying to look shocked but ultimately subsiding into giggles.

"Would have shocked me less," he laughed. "I mean, I'm not your favourite person in the world."

I felt warm and happy and amused and all of those good things that had felt so far away before. "Well," I popped, "I mean, you're not in the bottom ten, at least."

"I'm _not_?" he asked, his eyes looking like they would burst out of his skull.

I laughed heartily. "Of course not. Why – where am I in your rankings?"

Jasper smiled, and there was something oddly beautiful in the way he looked at me. "Well, I mean, you're not in the bottom ten, at least."

I laughed. Jasper smiled. Something seemed to almost click right into place with us. It was easier like this, when we weren't worrying about sex or other people or who would find out. For a moment, I entertained the idea that I could actually get along with Jasper, and that we might actually be able to be some kind of friends, and not just a screwed up version of fuck buddies.

When we fell silent I drew in a deep breath of fresh night air and lay back in the cool grass, next to my father's grave, and my eyes met the stars.

"Beautiful night tonight," I said.

Jasper looked up, and when he spotted the clear sky, he lay back too, on the other side of the grave. "I've never seen them so bright before."

"Charlie used to make me watch the stars with him when I was little," I said. "On nights like this, we would lay out on the back lawn for hours. He would point out all the constellations and tell me stories about them. It was a rare thing. The stars don't show over Forks very often."

"That's got to be a metaphor for something," Jasper chuckled.

"Darkness. Cold. Gloom and doom," I volunteered. Jasper was silent for a little while; long enough for the conversation to settle into a more serious tone.

"I hate this town," Jasper said then. "It's poisonous."

"Most of my better instincts tell me to hate it, too," I agreed.

"But...?" Jasper pressed, noticing my incomplete sentence.

I drew another deep breath. "But my father loved it, so there's a part of me that says that I should, too."

Jasper seemed almost in awe as he spoke next. "Your father had an ability to see the beauty in everything, even when someone else could not."

I took yet another deep breath, soaking in the words. "Sometimes I wish I could do that, too," I said. "It might make things easier."

What Jasper said next had me startled, tongue-tied, and unsure of what to think or what this was. "You can. I've seen you. You're not much different, Charlie and you."

It sounded almost like Jasper had spoken his thoughts which he never meant me to hear. Nevertheless, something about them set me on edge. Something was creeping up on me that I didn't want quite yet. Or ever. Reality started to crash down around me as I realised just how out of step this was from who we were, and _what_ we were.

The realisation made me sit up, a little too quickly. Jasper was alert, and up too, shocked by my movements. My hands went to the wildflowers which were still sitting in the middle of Charlie's grave. I busied myself with arranging them at the head, near the roses, as Jasper talked to me.

"Bella, what's wrong?" He looked down to wildflowers, and back up to my face, which I refused to turn up to meet his. "But – aren't those roses from you?"

I nodded. "They didn't feel right. They're not Charlie. I had to get different ones."

Jasper seemed to understand this, which frightened me even more. He tried to grab my attention. I could feel my heart pounding hard in my chest.

"Bella –"

"I have to go. I have to get this done," I said. "I'm late. My mother will wonder where I am."

"Bella –"

"I'm sorry, I have to –"

My protests were stopped when I felt his hand under my chin and another steadying the flowers. His rough, calloused hands felt like heaven on my skin. He dragged my face up to meet his. I felt a shiver shoot down my spine as I tried to resist but failed miserably.

My eyes met his, and I desperately wanted to pull away. I wanted to resist, because I was scared of what was happening and how we were changing. But Jasper didn't let me. He did the exact opposite, in fact.

Before I knew it, Jasper's lips were on mine, and they tasted like oranges and he smelt like pine trees and heat and fresh grass. His rough thumb brushed against my cheek, and I felt a lovely shiver. This was the first kiss that made me feel like I wanted more – not something physical, like sex or gratification. No, this was the first kiss that made me want more, in the most innocent sense of the word; more Jasper, more of his thoughts, more of his mind, more of his time. I felt fear spike in my stomach.

I forced myself to pull away from him. Jasper's eyes snapped out of the daze they were in as I stood up. He went to protest, to fight, to argue, but I cut him short and didn't give him time to recuperate before I darted away.

"I – I have to go, Jasper. I'm sorry."

I cursed myself and my incomprehensible actions as I walked swiftly back to the car. I had to get myself back on track, and stop this, and realise what it all actually meant. I had to realise that being near Jasper was bad. I had to remember, and remind myself of how wrong it was.

I had to go and visit Jacob.

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><p><strong>Proudly Beta'd by LithiumReaper<strong>

**Phew. That was a tough one to write. What do you think?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey all. I am terribly sorry for the late update and the fact that I absolutely failed at review replies this time. I've been in the middle of end-of-year exams, so I've been a bit preoccupied. I'm really very sorry. I hope this chapter answers a few of your questions. **

**LithiumReaper is the most amazing person **_**ever**_**, who has been working her fingers to the bone lately. And she's my beta. Jealous much? I would be. She's incredible.**

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><p><em><strong>Bella:<strong>_

I didn't let myself think about the mess I had left behind at Charlie's grave as I floored the accelerator. I was better at forgetting; blocking out emotions and running for the hills before I was forced to question the reality of what I was doing. It was the way I lived my life. It kept me safe._ Safe_. That's what my life was. Safe. Play it safe and don't get hurt. Run away and don't face a thing. I needed to remember that.

It didn't take long to get to the Reservation. It was late at night, so the road was empty, and I didn't worry about how fast I was driving. My entire mind was focused on keeping the car on the road and keeping Jasper _out_.

The Reservation's cemetery was very different from the ones in Forks. The graves were running up the hillside, made accessible by steps dug into the ground around the trees. The graves were identified with decorations and different materials – concrete or wood – lining the tomb. Each one was bright with its own design. Some were painted with traditional Native American drawings, some with other designs of the trees or beach, and some with notes and small sketches from loved ones, built up over the years in a colorful coating, and some with nothing but old age and creeping vines of moss and wildflowers.

The graveyard was not that big, but it was beautiful and enriched with the Tribe's history. Jacob was about halfway up the hillside. He had only been sixteen when he died. People had said that it was a tragic accident, a teenage hoodwink gone wrong, immaturity, carelessness, recklessness. There were bottles of alcohol in the backseat. What kind of kid was he? He could have hurt someone. It could have been _so much worse_.

People said and thought all of those things, but never really knew anything. They asked how on earth my father could rely on his statement against Carlisle. He wasn't trustworthy. He was a bad kid. He was dangerous. My father was a crazy, washed up sheriff with a daughter scorned by the town's golden son; by _Carlisle's _son. When you put it all together, it made Carlisle look like the innocent doctor, framed by the downtrodden, and made us look like the deceitful liars. The _traitors_ to a town that was so _good_.

Of course, the town didn't know that Jacob had been driving home from Carlisle's house the night that he died. They didn't _believe_ my father when he claimed that Jacob's best friend, Embry, had died of an overdose of oxycodone and alcohol; oxycodone that Carlisle sold him, illegally. They didn't believe that _Carlisle_ was the one who was illegally selling prescription drugs to minors on the Reservation. They didn't _care_ that Embry _died_ because of it. Jacob wasn't trustworthy. Jacob was dead. You couldn't rely on his claims. He was a liar, a cheat, a menace.

And so the truth died with him.

My father fought for it. He fought to reveal Carlisle's ways, to gain some sort of revenge for Jacob and Embry. But no one wanted to listen, no kids wanted to speak up – they had parents and teachers and a _life_ to worry about. No one wanted to face what was really going on. And soon, Carlisle decided to shut my Dad up by doing the only thing he could; make the town choose between the two of them; choose between the old sheriff who was slipping away, and the town's brilliant doctor, who had done so much for little Forks, and who could work _anywhere_, do _anything_, but chose to work with us.

Of course they chose Carlisle. My father was kicked to the curb with a mind filled with allegations and clues pointing to Carlisle and no one to show them to. No one who would _listen_. No one who _cared_.

I wasn't there to help my father. Two weeks before Embry died, Edward broke up with me. It was just when the scandal with the drugs was breaking. One day – my birthday before senior year – Edward proposed to me, and I was eighteen and engaged to be married. The next day, he took the ring away and told me that I wasn't what he wanted. That I wasn't good enough. That I was blue collar and he was trust-fund and we didn't _mesh_. And Carlisle had watched him while he did this, and I saw a sick smile play on his lips as his son ripped my heart out.

So I was brokenhearted and my father was outraged. He didn't want me married, but he wouldn't stand for anyone telling me that I wasn't _good enough_. There was fighting and arguing and warring between our families and eventually I chose to faze it all out and pretend that it had never happened. I was in deep with Edward, and breaking up with him had broken me, and I couldn't deal with the aftermath; with the war that played out because of it. I didn't just lose my boyfriend that day. I lost my best friend in Alice, my elder brother in Emmett, my substitute mother in Esme. I felt like I was the unwanted child. Like I had had my family ripped from my arms. I felt like I had lost _so much more_ than just a boyfriend.

I was stupid. I was young and naïve. I didn't really know who they were. I should never have felt like that, knowing now what happened afterwards.

Within two days, Edward was with Tanya. He had moved on. I tried to, but it was increasingly hard when I had to sit alone at the lunch table while they laughed and pretended like nothing happened. But I tried to be strong, and fight, and be the hero that my father wanted me to be. I tried to hold my head up high, despite my failings. It was the time that I felt most alone, because I realized just how isolated I was. I had no one but Edward. My whole life was _Edward_. When he was gone, I had no one. I hated myself for putting myself in that position.

Not long after, when Embry died, the rumors about the illegal drugs were proved right. My father pointed a finger at Carlisle. I could hardly believe it; that he, of all people, could be the one to sell them. But then, some part of me believed it. Some part of me knew that it _was_ him. I remembered the sick smile he had held whilst Edward broken up with me. I remembered the way a word from him could send a chill down your spine, could make you afraid, make you feel unsettled. I remembered the way he was so controlling, but passively so, which was the worst. I remembered the way that he made even Edward seem futile next to him.

It made perfect sense. He had access. He had the personality.

But no one believed my father. Jacob came forward to testify the truth. He claimed to have bought drugs from Carlisle, to have seen Embry buy the oxycodone that stole his life. Jacob. _My best friend_. A family friend. The boy I had known as a child. He would never lie to Charlie. He would never lie about something like that.

Carlisle did everything to discredit my father and Jacob. He made the town choose. It wasn't just our families warring then. It was the entirety of Forks. And my father's side was greatly outnumbered. And through it all, the only thing I wanted to do was run away.

I had given up. I hid away. I let my father down when he needed me most. I was a weak, broken girl, completely selfish and disloyal. I betrayed my father with my weakness.

When Jacob died in the fireball of a car accident, Carlisle claimed to be proved right. My father lost his last lifeline, and we lost the most amazing kid we had known. My father lost his title as Sheriff, his job, his friends, his livelihood. And I lost my mind, and ran away to Phoenix to my mother because I couldn't face it; face the fact that my best friend had died so gruesomely, that my father's life was falling apart, that everything was turning to darkness, that my life was crashing down around me, that I was so _weak_.

Yes. I ran away. That's what I was good at. I've been good at it my whole life. Running away from the hard things so I don't have to face the truth.

No tests could be done on Jacob's car when he died. It was a wreck, burnt to a crisp with him inside. But if tests had been done, I wondered what they would find. Yes, there were remnants of bottles of alcohol in the backseat, but he had just been at Carlisle's house. I knew Jacob. His passion was cars. He was the best driver I knew. He wasn't an idiot. He wasn't reckless. Despite buying drugs once, he was a good kid. Something in my gut told me that Carlisle had a hand in Jacob's death, like he had in Embry's.

But the cops said that Jacob had just been speeding, missed the corner. The weather had been terrible. It had been pouring with rain. It was just _inexperience_. But I knew better. Jacob wasn't inexperienced with a car. Their claims of what happened were guesses, because the rain hid the evidence, but there was something telling me – and my father – that this was more than just an accident.

But nothing my father said mattered. Jacob died. Carlisle walked free. My father lost everything. I gave up before I had even put up a fight. And my father lived his last years, rotting in Forks, alone and abandoned because I _couldn't face it_. Because I _gave up_ and _ran away_. I made the ones I loved feel alone and unwanted and abandoned. I betrayed my father.

And now here I was. Standing by Jacob's grave for the first time in years. Looking down at all of the drawings and notes his family and friends left on the white concrete of his grave. Bright with color and life and signs of love. What had I drawn him? What had I said? Did I remember?

Of course I did.

I located the sun immediately. Bright yellow, with flecks of orange. In the middle, in blue, and had written:

_Jacob,  
>I miss you, my personal Sun.<br>Love, B._

Blinding tears sprang into my eyes as I looked at the faded drawing. Jacob had been such a warm person. He lit up a room. He was beautiful. He had an infectious smile. He was one of those people who could never die. Not really. His spirit lived on. I could feel it. That familiar warmth and brightness. He was the sun. He was a constant. He was my angel, my guiding force, that one person who you could really _rely _on. He was a loyal friend and an infectious person and ultimately _good _and _pure_.

Why was it that the best people died, but I was forced to stay here and live?

I didn't deserve to be there, looking down at his grave. I didn't deserve to be near him, or his final resting place. I didn't deserve to be near Charlie, and his final resting place. Not when I had disgraced them both and given up and not _fought_ for them.

Losing Edward – our break up – had been the first thing to break me. It showed me just how weak I was; what a fragile, pathetic, shell of a person I had turned myself into – someone with no heart or soul. But that wasn't the thing that troubled me now. Pain over Edward was a short-term thing. A fling. A one-night-stand. But the loss of Charlie and Jacob…that's what ate at me. That's what made me so disgusted in myself, so ashamed to be who I was, the person who _gave up_, forgot to fight, broke down. I lost myself, and had never fully gotten back. They died, lost everything, and that was on my conscience. I treated them badly, let them down. They had lost their lives in terrible ways because of Carlisle Cullen. _That's_ why I had to run away from Jasper. I couldn't stand being reminded of that every single time I saw him.

Embry's grave wasn't far away from Jacob's. It was just down the hill a little, painted with a bright orange, yellow, red and pink sunset. His death had been an absolute tragedy. It had torn the Reservation apart. I remember his mother at his funeral, dressed in all black, tears streaming down her cheeks because her one and only child was dead. She was broken after that. My father told me that a year later, on the first anniversary of his death, she took her own life. It was all just too much for her to have to deal with alone. I could understand that. I would be lying if I said that I hadn't thought of doing the same thing after Charlie died.

I didn't have anything to give Jacob. No flowers, no letter, not even some kind words. Even they failed me. I could feel a tightening in my chest, a thickness in my throat, but I forced the tears away. I eased myself down to the ground, leant back against the concrete around Jacob's grave, and curled into a ball, tucking my legs up against my chest. I could hide there, shielded by Jacob, out of view, melting into the trees and the undergrowth. I could stay there for hours if I wanted to. At least, I thought I could, until I heard someone calling my name.

"Bella! Bella, come out, please!"

I heard the sound of shoes falling on dried leaves. The pace slowed to a tentative walk as he neared the graves. What made him slow down? Was it the realization of where he was, what was around him, _who_ was here? I thought so.

I curled myself tighter into the ball and willed Jasper to go away. It didn't work.

His footsteps were getting closer and closer. I curled tighter into my ball, pressing my face into my crossed arms, blocking out all of the sounds of the world. Maybe he would disappear. Or maybe I would disappear. _Maybe I could forget._

I felt a hot body sit down next to me. There was barely an inch of space separating us. My heart rate started to quicken. I tried to hide, and make myself smaller, but I could feel him watching me. He wasn't going to go away. He wasn't going to speak, either. He was going to wait for me.

It took me a while, but eventually I raised my head and sniffed away my runny nose and salty tears. I felt like my head was pounding. Both of us kept looking straight ahead, deep into the woods, as I spoke.

"How did you…Why?" I asked, trying to make the words come out right.

"It wasn't hard to figure out," he said. I swallowed hard. I was predictable. Of course. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. "So this is it, isn't it – why you keep running away?"

"I guess you could say that," I answered.

"I didn't kill them, Bella."

The reminder brought me to silence. It took a while for me to regain my composure. "But _he_ may as well have."

"I'm not Carlisle," Jasper said.

"Edward said that once, too. But in the end he turned out just like him."

I don't know why I said that. There was no reason for it. I knew that Jasper wasn't anything like Edward or Carlisle. And Jasper's movements then told me that I had just said one of the worst things imaginable.

Jasper shot up from his spot on the ground and kicked at a dried tree trunk, furious. I leapt up in fright as well.

"It's always that with you, isn't it? Edward! Edward is so _fucking_ important! You always go back to _Edward_! That is not fair, Bella. I'm _nothing_ like my step family! And, alright, I may not be as perfect as him in _some_ respects, but I am nowhere _near_ the monster that he is – that _they are_!"

I would be lying if I said that Jasper's sudden anger didn't alarm me.

"I never said you were," I told him.

"You may as well have!" he yelled back. "Jesus, Bella, you're just…_impossible_! Edward _hurt you_! You've _got _to stop comparing everyone to him. He is _not_ what you should strive for!"

"I don't want another person like Edward," I snarled. The thought was repulsive.

Jasper laughed cruelly. "Ha, yeah. Well, you could have fooled me."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You're still hung up on him! You avoid anything that will remind you of him! You _run away_ any time someone even _eludes_ to him! You're _scared_ of him. You're scared of all of them! Yet you bring them into every single decision you make because you can't let go of what he and his father _did to you_! It's been _five years_, Bella. _There's a point where you have to move on with your life_. But it's like you don't _want to_."

"Could you?" I snapped at him. "Could _you _let what they did go? You're such a hypocrite. You do the exact same thing as me! You do whatever you can to _differentiate _yourself from the life they lead and from them because you're so scared that people will associate you with them! You always have. Even in high school. You talk about _me_ being scared to face what happened. _You're_ just as scared as I am."

"Who wouldn't be?" he yelled at me. "Who _wouldn't_ want to be different with a family like mine? Everywhere I go, they are there. People associate me with them. People know them. Everywhere I go, I'm Dr Cullen's son. I'm the rebellious step son. _I'm _the bad guy! I lost my own _damn_ identity when my mother married into that fucking family. Of course I want to escape it!"

"Not everyone thinks of you like that," I said, the anger in my veins lightening at Jasper's admission.

"Oh yeah?" he tested, raising an eyebrow. "Then tell me, Bella: do you run away from me because you just don't _like me_, or is it for some other reason that I don't know?" I was silent, because he had caught me out. "Yeah, that's what I thought. You know what else I think? The only reason you have even been _willing_ to fuck me is because of who I am – _because_ Edward is my step brother. I'm far enough away from him in personality to not fuck you up the way he did, but I'm close enough to still be _part_ of him. Close enough so that you will never _really_ loose contact with him."

The anger was back, and I felt like slapping Jasper across the face. "That's _not_ true," I snarled. "How dare you?"

"Do you remember what one of the first things you said to me was, back at New Years when we woke up that first morning?" I didn't say a thing. Jasper took it as a chance to continue. "You reminded me that I'm his _brother_. As if I didn't already know that. As if I didn't already _hate _that."

"I'm just another _extension _of him," he spat sharply. "I just…I just can't stand it."

The flash of pain across Jasper's face tore my heart out. I could understand that pain. Being associated with the people who ruined the life of the man who helped you through so much. In a way, Jasper and I were in the same boat. When he turned to walk away, my heart overcame my head and I ran to him.

"Jasper, no, wait. Don't go!"

I grabbed his arm in a rush. He spun around at the contact. His blue eyes startled me and made my heart skip a beat.

"Why not?" he demanded.

Words. I needed to find the right _words_. I needed to say what I was feeling – _properly_, this time and not just have it come out in a jumbled mess.

"I didn't stick around you because of Edward. He wasn't a factor in the equation. In fact, the fact that you're tied to Edward made me think sleeping with you was a _bad _idea."

"What was it, then?" Jasper asked.

Damn it.

"I don't know," I admitted. Jasper looked away in aggravation. "I mean, it's just hard to explain. You just…you just made me feel good."

"Yeah, well, sex does that," he spat, and he began to shake me off and turn away.

Anger filled me, and I tugged him back, hard, not letting go of his arm. "Listen to me!" I ordered. Jasper turned back, slightly thrown, and frowned down at me. "It wasn't the sex, Jasper. Well, part of it was, okay. But…I started to just…I started to _like_ spending time with you. You were good company."

Something stirred in Jasper. But something else told me that he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"If I was such good company, why did you make it your mission to run away when things got tough? Why did you not want to talk to me? Why did you not give a shit when Lucy was coming on to me? Why did you make _damn _sure that we were nothing but fuck buddies? Why couldn't you just be my _friend_?"

I should have answered truthfully. I should have shoved my anger away and said, _"Because I was scared"_. It was the truth and it made perfect sense. But instead I went and pointed the finger at him and acted like a defensive asshole.

"Alright then. Why did _you_ make sure that we weren't exclusive? Why did _you_ sleep with other girls? Why did _you_ lie to your roommates about me? Who the _fuck_ is Izzy? Who the _hell_ is that special girl who got you to make music again? Stop acting like I'm some damn special little snowflake! You don't need me and you don't want me. So don't put all of the blame on me!"

Jasper took a while to answer. The way he looked at me was completely off. The next thing he said made me angrier than I had ever felt.

"Damn, Swan, you've actually got some fight in you. I'm surprised. When did you grow a backbone?"

I hated him. I hated him and everything about him

I narrowed my eyes and virtually spat at him. "Fuck you, Jasper Whitlock."

"You've already done that," he smirked.

I shook my head and glared at him, seeing red. "_Grow up_, Jasper. For fuck sake."

I spun around on my heel and began to storm out of there. I could hear Jasper's shouts through the trees.

"And there we are: back in fucking _high school_! I'm the dickhead with the smart mouth and you're the girl who won't face any of her problems! Are you happy now?"

I forced myself to keep walking. I couldn't turn around. I couldn't face him. I wasn't brave enough.

"This isn't _high school_ anymore, Bella! You can't keep reverting to who you were back then! Look around you! Two kids and your father are dead in the ground and the guy who is to blame still walks free!"

I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand walking away when he was saying such horrible things.

I spun around again, my cheeks burning, and shouted back at him.

"Stop being such a hypocrite, Jasper! I'm dealing with it! I'm facing it! You're _just _as guilty as me! You run away _just _as much!"

"I've done nothing but try to get through to you!" he shouted back. "You just won't _let me_! The only thing I have wanted is to get to know you!"

"Me and twenty other girls in the wider Seattle area!" I screamed.

Jasper groaned loudly. The next thing he said was utterly shocking. "There were _no other girls_, Bella! Not since New Year! It was all _you_!"

It was almost as though my heart stopped beating.

"What?" I had barely spoken in a whisper.

Jasper bowed his head. He looked almost broken. When he looked back up to me, the emotions in his eyes took my breath away.

"There were no other girls," he repeated. "None."

"But your roommate…"

"She got it wrong."

"You called me Izzy."

"If I had revealed who you are, you have no idea what they would have done."

"But the non-exclusive thing…"

"Was Garrett's idea."

The next point caught in my throat. "What – what about the writing?"

Jasper took longer to answer this time. He closed his eyes and looked down at the undergrowth. His eyes had never looked_ so_ blue as when he looked up at me again. I felt like he was seeing right through me.

"All you."

I completely killed the mood with the next thing I said.

"You're lying."

Jasper laughed. Loudly. "I'm not, Bella."

"But why?"

"Why you?" he asked. I nodded. He shrugged. "I don't know. It just happened."

"That song that you were playing when you were painting the coffee shop. Was that…?"

Jasper nodded. "About you? Yeah, it was."

Fear spiked in me. Jasper realized what I was about to do before I did it.

"No, don't, Bella," he begged.

"I – uh – I have to go. _Now_."

"Bella, don't," he pleaded.

I was backing away, preparing myself to dart off. "I can't do this. Not here," I said.

"You're running away again."

"They're _dead_, Jasper," I reminded him, glancing at Jacob and Embry's graves. "I can't forget that."

"You think I can?"

"I never said that –"

"They would want you to go on living, Bella," he insisted.

I felt the tears coming again. "That's the unfair part."

Jasper looked absolutely shocked. "What do you mean?"

Tears were pooling in my eyes as I looked at him. I felt my heart being almost tugged out of my chest. It was easy, saying these things. It would be easy to get to know Jasper. I wanted to. I really, really did. But I couldn't.

"I shouldn't be the one who gets to go on living. It's not fair."

Then I ran away. _Again_. For the millionth time in my life. And this time, Jasper didn't follow me.

:::

As soon as I got back to the motel room and my head hit the pillow, I was asleep. The next morning, it felt like I was awoken at the crack of dawn. In reality, it was about ten in the morning. My mother was hunched over her suitcase, putting her clothes away.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. Good sleep?" she said, smiling.

"Yeah," I nodded groggily. "Sorry. I must have been tired. I'll pack quickly. We have to be out by ten thirty, right?"

"Late night, huh?" she asked.

"No," I said quickly, throwing off the covers. "Just tired."

"I heard you come in last night, Bella," she told me. "Where did you go?"

My heart rate started to quicken. "Oh, just out for a walk."

"Don't tell fibs, honey."

"It's the truth!"

"Did you meet a guy?" she asked.

"No!"

My mother sighed reproachfully. "Bella, honey, listen to me. I know that this weekend has been tough, but don't go and do anything reckless. You still have to look after yourself."

"I know, mom."

My mother smiled. "Well, alright. Now get ready. Quickly. We have to be on the road in a few minutes."

I tried not to look around as we were driving through Forks. I felt like I was going to cry. The only thing I wanted to do was get back to my apartment, lock myself in my room, and scream into a pillow. I hated myself for being so weak, and for what I had said and done in front of Jasper.

I didn't know what it would mean for us. Jasper was hurting. I was hurting. We were both completely fucked up in our own ways, and torn between a million things holding us back. I wanted to smack myself for saying what I did to him. I had hurt him, which is not good. But I had also revealed things that I didn't want to reveal, and learnt things that I didn't want to know. Not now, at least. And I was being selfish for running away when he was so open with me. I ran away from his pain, when he was so brave to reveal it, despite the fact that I should have stayed to help him. That was maybe the worst part.

We were driving through the middle of town when I felt it, just passing the diner in town. Through the window, I could feel a familiar pair of eyes watching me, and a familiar feeling crawled up my spine.

Instinctually, I glanced out the window, and I swear my heart stopped for a moment. Walking out of the diner were four people I didn't want to see, and they were all looking directly at me: Alice, Edward, Carlisle, and Jasper.

:::

_**Jasper:**_

I had always known that Bella must have been damaged by what happened to her family. But I never realized just how _deep _it ran until she revealed it accidentally that night. The belief that she wasn't good enough, that she didn't deserve to _live_. It frightened me, because it was the last thing I wanted her to feel like.

But the girl pissed me off, and that was the simple truth. She was as stubborn as they came. Part of me wanted to look after her and soothe her, but another part wanted to scream at her because she was so infuriating.

I hadn't wanted to tell her any of the things I did – about how I felt about my family, or about her, or about the music. But I had to. I figured that it was the better option, rather than losing her altogether. After talking to her at her father's grave, I knew that I couldn't stand that. We were in the same boat, Bella and I. And after hearing and realizing how she truly felt about _herself_, I knew that I couldn't just let her go.

The next morning we all went out to the diner for breakfast. I was exhausted, and not in the mood to talk to anyone. Alice continually chattered in my ear, which pissed me off to no end. Rosalie and Emmett were all loved up, which was the highlight of the day. It made it all bearable. Carlisle quizzed the waitress on the quality of their food and where it was sourced. My mother nodded along like it was the most important thing in the world. And Edward was still being a selfish child begging for the attention of everyone – actions which Tanya condoned, if not _encouraged_. I really wanted to knock some sense into that girl, or at least get Alice to do it. It was as though she looked at the world through rose-tinted glasses and couldn't really see what was right in front of her.

When we finished breakfast we paid and headed outside. Rosalie, Emmett, Mom and Tanya stopped off at the bathroom inside, while the rest of us headed out to the cars. That was when we saw her.

Bella looked terrified as she spotted us coming out of the diner after breakfast. It hurt, seeing her look so terrified, after hearing everything she had said the night before. It confused the hell out of me, because I didn't know what to think about her, or what we were, anymore. I was just as terrified as her; frightened that just by seeing her they would all realize that I had been fucking her for the last month. Stupidly, I thought that would be the first conclusion they would jump to.

"Was that Bella Swan?" Carlisle asked innocently. Edward looked shell-shocked, and didn't answer as Tanya flitted up to his side.

"Yes," Alice answered although she wasn't looking at Carlisle. She was looking directly at me. And I knew that I was screwed. We started walking down the street, looking at the shops. I tried to catch up to Rosalie and Emmett – who hadn't seen Bella – but Alice yanked me back and forced me to stand with her as everyone walked ahead.

"Hmm, I wonder why she was in town," Carlisle pondered as he walked away. I glared at him, and was about to shout at him that it was the anniversary of Charlie's death, when Alice forced me to look at her.

"What the fuck was that?" she demanded.

"What?" I asked.

"You just looked like someone had ripped your heart out of your chest when you saw Bella. What's going on?" she demanded. She looked completely terrifying; stern, demanding, and perceptive as hell.

"What the hell? Nothing."

"Bullshit," she called. "I'm not an idiot, Jasper. I can see right through you. What's going on with you and Bella?"

I glanced nervously up the street, but thankfully everyone was out of ear shot. "_Nothing,"_ I reiterated. "Jesus. Can't you take a straight answer?"

She narrowed her eyes. "You fucked her, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't –"

I tried to rebut her, but Alice was all over me. "I heard that she was in Seattle, but it's such a huge city. I thought that _surely_ even _you _couldn't manage to bump into her. And you did. Jesus, Jasper."

"Keep your voice down!" I hissed.

"It won't end well, Jasper."

"Shut _up_, Alice!"

"If Carlisle finds out – or if _Edward_ finds out. Christ, Jasper."

"They won't find out!" I told her.

"So it _is_ true. Oh, Jasper."

Alice looked at me sympathetically. That was the worst.

"It's complicated, alright?"

"Do you love her?" she asked immediately.

The question shook me. The look in Alice's eyes was serious – almost desperate. I was suddenly frightened of the little creature.

"Fuck no," I promised. "Jesus, is that the first conclusion you jump to?"

"Edward loved her," she reminded me.

"Edward didn't love her. If he did, he wouldn't have done what he did to her."

"You and I both know that's bullshit," she said simply.

"What?"

Alice sighed, as if it was some great chore for her to explain this to me. "Edward loved Bella. Sure, he had a fucked up way of showing it, but he got that trait from dear old Dad. In fact, I'm betting he still loves her. The only reason he dumped her and picked up Tanya was because of the old man over there."

I tried to not let this bother me. I attempted to push it away behind a wall. But still, I could feel it scratching at me.

"He fucked up her life," I snarled.

"You mean _Carlisle_ fucked up her life," Alice said. "Edward was a shitty boyfriend, sure, but he didn't do all of that stuff that tore apart her family."

This was a new thing for Alice – her admitting that Carlisle had been the one who sold the drugs and manipulated everyone. She had always been such a Daddy's girl. Then again, it made perfect sense. She also had that rebellious streak. It was the explanation for her actions towards me back in high school – why we pretended to date. She wanted to drive her father around the bend and I didn't give a shit what she decided to say about me.

"So do you love her or not?" she asked me.

"No," I answered.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Alice hummed, like this was all very interesting to her.

"What do you want out of this little…_thing_ with her?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

"How is it going?"

"I really don't want to talk about this with you, Alice."

Alice rolled her eyes. "Right. Well, do you know _anything_ about how you feel about her?"

"I'm confused as fuck," I admitted.

Alice nodded and pursed her lips. "Well, can I make a suggestion?"

"What?" I asked.

"Sort your shit out soon."

"What do you mean?"

"Figure out how you feel about her, and tell her. Don't screw around, because she won't stick around to wait on you."

"It's not that simple," I told her. "She's…a fighter."

"She runs away and hides, you mean," Alice said. I didn't answer. Alice grinned. "Listen, Jasper, I was her friend in high school. I know Bella. She runs from anything confrontational or hard. You are that, and more."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" I asked.

"Because I love you, and I want to help you out."

Right. I believed that.

"No, seriously, what's your angle?" I pressed.

"That _is_ my angle," she said strongly. "I'm not _always_ a two-faced, manipulative, crazy bitch, Jasper. You're into Bella, and I care about you."

"You care about me?" I asked sarcastically. "_Really?_"

"It may surprise you, but yes. I've changed since high school, Jasper. I'm not that same girl. We have all changed."

"You don't want me with Bella. It would tear your precious family apart. You will do anything to keep them together."

"Maybe," Alice shrugged elusively. "The thing is, I owe Bella. _For a lot_. And I owe you. So this is a form of…repayment, I suppose."

"Owe me? What the fuck do you owe me for?"

Alice smiled knowingly. It was a smile that told me that she knew a whole lot more than what she was letting on, and that she would also never share that knowledge with me. At least until the time was right.

Then, Alice walked away without another word, and I felt even more confused than ever.

:::

_**Bella:**_

I arrived home in the late afternoon, after dropping my mother back at the airport and doing a few messages. Angela was sitting on the sofa, reading a book, waiting for me to come home. As soon as I walked through the door and dropped my bag on the floor, she was wrapping me in a hug.

"Bella! Oh, how are you? How did it go? Are you alright? Can I get you anything?"

I felt crowded. I just wanted to get in to my room and scream it all out.

"I'm fine, Angela. It was a great weekend, really. Nothing went wrong. It was nice to spend time with my mom again."

Angela nodded eagerly. "Come and tell me all about it," she said.

"I would, but I'm really exhausted," I said. "Mind if I go and take a nap, and we do this later?"

Angela understood, and assured me that it was okay. I headed straight into my room, dropped my bag by the wardrobe, and threw myself onto my bed. Screaming into my pillow was the most relieving experience.

I screamed and I cried and I mulled over everything for a good hour. Nothing good came of it. I was still confused as hell. Jasper's admission about his music, about how I was the only girl he had slept with since New Year, was absolutely shocking. I had not seen it coming. I didn't know what to think about us, or where we were in this fucked up relationship system thing. Fuck buddies was meant to be simple. It was meant to be relaxing. It was meant to be pleasurable. It wasn't meant to throw me around a bend and mess with my head.

I wanted to forget. I wanted to forget it all. I wanted to forget that I had ever slept with Jasper, that he had ever told me that I inspired his music, that I had ever got to know him a bit, and that we had ever started to bond. It just made everything so much harder. Conflicting emotions were something that I didn't want to deal with. I was unsettled after that weekend, feeling something grow inside me that I didn't want.

After a little while of stewing in my thoughts, I forced myself up and went out to see Angela. She looked up at me immediately.

"What are you doing tomorrow night?" I asked.

Angela frowned. "Nothing. Why?"

"Let's go out. Clubbing. I need a night out, to get my head back on straight. Clear my thoughts. Forget about things. You know?"

Angela looked apprehensive. "Is that a really good idea?"

"Why not?" I shrugged. "You've got to let your hair down every once in a while, right?"

That wasn't just it. Alcohol, blaring music, blinding lights. It was exactly what I needed. I could numb myself to the entire world. I needed that break.

She still wasn't sure. "But tomorrow is Monday. Monday night, clubbing. Really?"

"It sounds brilliant," I grinned.

"But you hate clubbing," she said.

"Opinions change, sometimes," I shrugged.

Angela didn't want to go. Clearly, she didn't. But she was also worried about me, so she would come, because she thought that she had to protect me. She thought that I was going to do something stupid and reckless.

"Sure," she agreed finally.

Who knows? Maybe I would.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Beta'd by LithiumReaper<strong>_

**This is probably my least favorite chapter of the lot. It's a bit of a filler chapter – or a lot of a filler chapter – to lead onto the next part. Anyway, reviews would be nice. What are your thoughts on the revelations in this chapter?**

**Also, my next update might be a bit delayed. I'm about to go on summer holidays, so I will work hard to get the next chapter out in the next few weeks. But I'm also going in to have surgery at the end of the month. And if I don't get it out before then, the next chapter could be a bit delayed. Just a warning, in case I don't get another update out.**

**Phew. Okay. Thank you all for being the amazing people that you are. I hope everyone had a fantastic Halloween!**


	11. Chapter 11

**I have to thank my amazing beta, LithiumReaper, for all of her hard work. I don't know where I would be without her. She has also just celebrated her birthday! She is absolutely the most amazing person**_** ever**_** and I wish her all the happiness in the world. Say happy birthday to her too, will you?  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Bella:<strong>

Monday was a long day. Work seemed to stretch on for hours. Lucy seemed super energetic, and was rubbing me up the wrong way with her continuous banter. When the conversation moved to Jasper Whitlock, I couldn't stand it.

"Do you think he will come back in?" she asked energetically, flitting behind me as I moved from table to table, wiping them clean. "I mean, I feel like we hit it off. I know he felt it too. Do you think he'll come back? Do you think he'll ask for my number! Gosh, I hope so! I think I adore him!"

I shrugged and kept moving. I didn't want to feed her enthusiasm anymore, but she didn't seem to get the fact that I was brushing her off.

"I mean, he was gorgeous, wasn't he? And he was kind of flirting with me. He sang for me! Wasn't it amazing? Oh gosh, he was so amazing. _Dreamy_, even, in that kind of…roughed up way. I want him to come back and ask me out!"

Lucy was being so flighty and brainless that she threw her hand out and knocked over the bucket of water and soap I had sitting on the table. Lucy jumped back, but it drenched my clothes as it fell.

"Oh gosh, Bella, I'm so sorry!"

I couldn't help myself with what happened next. After listening to Lucy's incessant yapping for ten minutes, I was at wits end. Work was meant to be the one place I could _escape_ from Jasper. Of course, that newly painted wall _did_ make that a bit harder to accomplish.

"Lucy, _go away_! I don't give a shit about that Jasper guy, alright? If he wants to see you again, he will make the effort. If he doesn't, he's not interested. And if you're so _damn_ interested in him, go and knock on his door and ask him out! You know where he lives!"

I stormed away then. I felt like something thick was caught in my throat. I locked myself in the bathroom for a good ten minutes with the excuse that I was cleaning up, but in reality, I just sat there, my arms wrapped around myself, trying to ground myself again and absolutely _refusing _to cry. I didn't know why Lucy had gotten so _under my skin_. It was horrible to yell at her. But I was already at the end of my tether. I couldn't deal with more of her incessant obsession with Jasper after what had happened in the weekend. I just couldn't cope with him seeping his way into _every_ aspect of my life.

When I returned, she quietly said, _"I'm sorry, Bella."_ I returned her apology with, _"Me too, Lucy. Sorry. I shouldn't have blown up at you."_ After that, we didn't speak, and Lucy left early that day with the excuse of a headache.

My plans with Angela to go clubbing couldn't come into fruition soon enough.

I got home at about six. Angela had just arrived a few minutes before me. After having dinner, we decided to get ready. Although it was my idea to go out, my complete incapability to dress adequately for the occasion meant that, even against Angela's reservations of actually _going out_, she ended up finding me something to wear.

In the end, she put me in one of her little blue dresses and a pair of black flats. My two left feet did not allow me any room to wear heels. After throwing on her own red dress and a pair of silver heels which looked like they could kill, we grabbed a snack, hung out for a little while, and then headed for the club at about ten.

The Outback was one of the most popular clubs in Seattle. Even on a Monday night, it was teeming with patrons dressed up for a good night. As soon as we were inside, I felt my worries start to lift right off my shoulders.

I headed straight for the bar, and Angela was close behind me. "Let's just…go easy, Bella, okay? It's only Monday."

I just nodded, jumped up on the barstool, and grabbed the bartender's attention. He was an attractive young man with tousled brown hair and stunning green eyes. He was the kind of guy who could sell drinks and triple his tip just by smiling at a girl.

"Whatcha want, sweetheart?"

"Rum and coke with no ice and an apple martini. And don't call me sweetheart."

He thumped the counter and grinned a little too widely. "Coming right up." A few moments later, he slid the drinks to me. I handed Angela her martini, but it turns out her reservations about coming had evaporated, and she was chatting up a guy next to her already. She was taking her 'off' status with Ben to heart, and being the single girl that she was.

I smiled to the bartender and took mine. "Thanks."

He poured a beer and slid it to a stranger who was waiting. "So, if I can't call you sweetheart, what can I call you?"

I couldn't help it. I started to blush. "Bella."

"Ah, yes. Italian for beautiful. How fitting."

I sipped on my drink and smiled cheekily. "This gig and that smooth tongue must really get you laid a lot."

He smirked at me. "I do alright. And you're not going to ask me for my name?"

"Should I?"

"Bret," he said.

"Solid name," I nodded. "I wouldn't have a clue what it means though."

He smiled again, and it was pretty easy to see how a charmer like him could woo any girl he wanted. "We Bs should stick together, Bella."

"Us against the world? We'll hold hands and drive off the cliff together like Thelma and Louise?"

That smirk came again, and there was a little twinkle in his eye. "I was thinking more along the lines of Bonnie and Clyde."

"Well aren't you just eternally optimistic."

Bret leaned closer over the counter. It was easy to talk to him, even though it was just a bunch of pointless flirting. It helped me get my mind off Jasper, and although it was a bad way to do it, I needed to let lose a little bit. What harm could a bit of meaningless flirting do?

"I get off in half an hour. Wait for me?"

Red flag. The first thing that came to my mind was completely untrue, but I didn't want this guy to get any ideas that this flirtation would go anywhere past a few drinks and pointless chatter.

"I'm involved with someone, sorry."

Well, it wasn't completely untrue. Jasper and I were _involved_, in the most physical sense of the word; emotionally, in a way, too, although we weren't actually _together_ involved, as in romance. We were just some screwed up version of fuck buddies that were never properly defined with a hell of a lot more complications weighing us down than what was natural.

"Doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you."

I smiled politely, although this declaration did _not_ help his cause. "It _does_ bother me, sorry."

Bret looked genuinely interested. "Why are you here then, if you're _'involved'_? Where's your guy? It's a Monday night, and you're at a club without him. That can't be normal."

"It's…_complicated_," I said. The thought of Jasper being _my guy_ kind of threw me.

"Well, with me it doesn't have to be," he offered.

I laughed. I couldn't help it. "_Damn_. Do girls actually thrive off this shit you're sprouting? Some must just eat out of the palm of your hand."

Bret smiled knowingly. I didn't like it. "Tell you what, Bella. I will be completely _uncomplicated_. I get off in an hour. I'll buy you a few drinks, we can have a couple dances, and you can tell me all about this _complicated _guy that you're trying to get off your chest."

"How do you know I'm trying to get him off my chest?" I asked suspiciously.

"Bartender," he said, pointing to the emblem on his shirt's breast. "Shrink is _kind of_ part of the job description. I can smell relationship complications from a mile away."

"Yet you still hit on the people with them," I said.

"Not the _people_," Bret said. "I don't give this out freely. Only to the girls – the beautiful ones, preferably. They're…uh…in need of more _attention_."

This _certainly_ wasn't helping his cause. "Well, I can assure you that I don't need any of your special _attention_."

"No," he nodded, "but you're interesting and fun to talk to, and frankly, pickings are small on a Monday night."

"Wow," I said sarcastically. "You _are_ a charmer."

"That I am," he popped. "So, what do you say? It's just a bit of harmless fun. My hands won't go below the waist, promise."

"How about they don't touch me at all, and then we've got ourselves a deal?"

Bret smiled, picked up my rum and coke, and nodded it at me. "Deal," he said, before draining the glass.

Maybe this was wrong, spending any time with another guy other than Jasper. He had basically just bared his soul to me at a graveyard in Forks. While I was dancing with Bret, I started to feel like I had no heart at all. What kind of a person was I? I should have been trying to talk to Jasper and sort things out and show him that what he said to me was _not_ completely hopeless. I shouldn't have been ignoring him and spending time with some other sleazy bartender I didn't even know. Jasper and the issues that we had brought to the surface weren't just something I could _run away from_, as much as I wished they could be. I should have been dealing with him and talking to him and being a responsible adult.

That's what I _should_ have been doing. But I was also really good at doing things that weren't necessarily the best thing to do, or good for me. Jasper's confessions had been a lot to take in, and had been completely unexpected. We had started off as just some harmless fun. We weren't meant to be anything complicated or serious. And after all that had gone on, and the emotional train wreck of a weekend I had had, why couldn't I let off some steam? What was the fault in that? Why did everything have to be so damn _complicated_? I wasn't doing anything _bad_. It wasn't like I was cheating on Jasper. We weren't even _together_. Hell, I didn't have a clue_ what_ we were. And our fuck buddy thing sure wasn't _exclusive. _Sure, when I thought he had screwed someone else, it had hurt, but that's because I hadn't known. And it wasn't like I was going to sleep with Bret the bartender. This whole thing with Jasper was _not_ supposed to be this damn complicated. I felt like I was treading on eggshells with every move I made.

Then again, I really was kidding myself when I said that. As soon as I agreed to have sex with Jasper, I knew, somewhere deep down, that it wasn't just going to be _simple_. That's just because of who he was. He was _Jasper_. And we were linked in so many ways and shared so many demons that I really was kidding myself when I said that I thought that we could be uncomplicated and easy and just _get away_ with fucking each other casually. But my animal, feral instincts had gotten the better of me then and told me that it was okay, and that it felt bloody good, and that maybe it would work. I was blinded by hormones like some lustful teenager. And look where it got me.

It was my own damn fault. And I wasn't doing anything productive to fix the situation by drinking and dancing with the damn bartender with a single syllable name.

After I was pumped full of enough rum and cokes to make me tipsy, Bret pulled me out onto the dance floor. Silently, I was thankful as all hell for the fact that Angela had not forced me into heels. Even in flats, I could barely stay on my feet.

The music was pounding, and the dancing was fun. But it was close, with sticky, hot bodies pressed together and grinding against each other. It reminded me of New Years, when I had first seen Jasper again. When this whole thing had started. And that frightened me.

I can't remember how many songs we danced to, or how many drinks I threw down as we danced. All I remember is my vision getting foggier by the second, and Bret's getting a little friendlier with every passing moment.

I heard the song change, and I snapped out of my alcohol-induced daze briefly to try and locate Angela. It took me a while. I stopped moving, and Bret didn't respond very well to that.

"What are you doing?" he asked gruffly. I felt a hot, sticky hand slide along my neck, brushing my hair away. A shiver shot up my spine, and I pulled away a bit.

"Looking for my friend," I said quickly.

"She's over there," Bret said, pointing to the bar, "chatting up some guy. Come on. Relax. Dance with me."

"I should go," I said. "Work tomorrow."

I went to move away, but a hand gripped my wrist. I felt a pair of lips trail roughly along the nape of my neck, and felt sick to my stomach.

"C'mon, Bella, relax. Stay with me."

"I can't," I said again, attempting to pull away but stumbling over my own two feet.

Bret caught me and helped me back up. "What do you do anyway, Bella? I know next to nothing about you."

"I work in a coffee shop. And I have to go," I answered roughly.

Bret let out a booming laugh, as if my career was some big joke to him. "You're kidding. Huh. Weird. Well, I guess that's why you smell like coffee."

His lips trailed along my neck again, and his hands slid in front of me, down my abdomen. I jumped away in fright. Although I was nearly drunkenness, I knew what _this_ was.

"Don't touch me, Bret," I growled.

Bret smiled, as if I was joking. "Playing hard to get, are we? Don't worry, sweet cheeks. I can play too."

Bret started to walk towards me, his eyebrow raised. I backed off, and was about to bolt to Angela when my stomach churned sickly.

My hands went to my mouth. "I'm going to be sick."

Bret was on my before I even had a chance to do anything else. "Here, come with me, I'll take you to the bathroom."

I tried to resist. With one hand over my mouth, I pulled away from him and struggled and fought as hard as I could. But to no avail. He was almost twice my size, and because he was an employee, the bouncer didn't worry that he was whisking me outside down a dark hallway to one of the employee bathrooms in the back of the building.

Bret led me to the sink, and the contents of my stomach came back up in a disgusting mess. Bret presented me with a handkerchief as soon as the retching was over. I shook my head, refusing his help.

"Take it, Bella. Clean yourself up. Really."

I didn't really have a choice. Gunk was all over my face. So I took his handkerchief and wiped it off.

"I'm going to head home," I said, stumbling a little bit as I attempted to recover composure. "I'm…I'm going to go and get Angela."

Bret's hands went to my shoulders. "Wow, steady there, girl. Maybe you should wait a little while and get your sea legs back."

I shook him off me. "_No_. I want to go home."

Bret smiled and he stepped towards me. I backed away instinctively, and soon hit the grimy bathroom wall. His hands went up to my sides, trapping me.

"Stay," he said. It was a command rather than a question. "Talk to me."

I looked around the bathroom, trying to find an escape route. The door was shut, with a door stop under it. Locked.

"_No_," I said strongly. "I'm sick, and I want to go home, so let me go!"

"_Still_ playing hard to get?" Bret asked in awe. "Damn, Bella, you know how to wrap a guy around your little finger."

Bret leaned down towards me, and I knew what was coming. I turned my head away and attempted to push him away, but he stopped me easily. One of his hands gathered my hands and trapped them above my head, and the other grabbed my face and held it steady.

"Just a kiss, Bella," he said before his lips smacked onto mine.

For a moment, I was shocked. My heart pounded mercilessly in my ears and my chest felt like it was going to explode. Then, my defensive instincts kicked in. I couldn't wriggle out of his hold. He was too strong, and I felt like he could break my jaw, but there was one thing that I could do.

I wriggled and tried to escape desperately, trying to suck in breath and say no. He didn't listen, so I had no other choice. When his tongue wriggled itself into my mouth, I bit down on it. Hard. Then I lifted my foot and, with as much force as I could, shoved it right into his groin.

There was a bloodcurdling howl of pain, and suddenly I was released. It worked. Bret doubled over in pain, and I stood there like a stunned mullet, not believing that I was actually able to _do that_. Then, he looked up at me, and I saw the blood seeping from his mouth.

"You _bitch_!" he roared. "What the hell was that!"

I went to run to the door, and had just gotten it open, when he lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. I screamed as loudly as I could, but it was cut off by his other hand clamping my mouth shut.

"You fucking _bit me_!" he shouted. "What the hell was that for!"

"Let _go of me_!" I shouted back.

Bret didn't have a chance to react. The door to the bathroom flew open and smashed loudly against the wall. I felt like my entire insides were rocked. Then, I felt Bret's hands release me, and there was a deafening crunch as Bret fell hard to the floor.

:::

**Jasper:**

"Jasper!"

Garrett was shouting something at me which I completely didn't catch. I looked to him and saw his lips moving, but no sound was coming out. I yanked the headphones out of my ears and listened in.

"Jasper, are you alive over there, mate?"

"What?"

Garrett dropped his paint stripping mask on top of his head and grinned. "Touchy much."

"What do you want?"

"Just to chat," Garrett said. "You've barely spoken two words to me since we started."

It was Monday morning. We were stripping a bright red wall in a young couple's bedroom and reapplying a forest green coat. It was a dull job, and my mind had been completely elsewhere; namely, on Bella.

"Sorry."

Garrett expected me to say something else, and looked surprised when I didn't. "Something on your mind."

"No," I shrugged.

"You're a crap liar, Jasper," he said. I didn't say a thing, so he kept pressing. "Is it about your roommates being assholes? You know you can stay with me for as long as you want, right?"

"It's not about them," I said. I hadn't even _thought_ about Peter or Charlotte for days.

"Are you going to tell me what it is?"

"It's nothing."

Garrett sighed and tossed his paint scraper into the tool bin. "Jasper, I'm serious now. You've been fucked up and brooding for weeks now. Tell me what's going on. I'm actually legitimately _worried_ about you. You're not the same, and it's a bit of a downer."

I stopped working and looked straight at Garrett. He was worried about me. _Worried about me_. The idea threw me. I never thought that Garrett would care about me. But then I guessed that we were friends and work buddies. Maybe he did.

"I'm sorry," I said. "It's just…that girl."

"The girl who you're meant to be casually fucking?"

"That's the one."

Garrett frowned. "But I thought it was meant to be casual."

"It was."

"And it's not anymore?"

"_Now_ it's complicated as all hell."

"Why?"

"It's a long story," I said.

Garrett ran a hand through his hair, and kind of shrugged at me. "Do you love her?"

"Why the fuck does everyone keep _asking me_ that?" I growled angrily without thinking.

"Is that a…yes?"

"No," I said strongly. "No, I don't."

Garrett frowned. "Then…why is it complicated?"

"Because I know her."

Garrett still looked confused. "Well, of course you do."

"No," I said. "I mean…I knew her from high school, before we met again and started having sex."

"Okay…That's it?"

"No," I repeated. "_And_…she's my step brother's ex."

"Oh fuck."

"_Exactly_."

Garrett shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "That's fucked up, man."

"I know."

"So _that's _why you've been so torn up lately."

"Bingo."

Garrett shook his head. "Why do you do it to yourself, man?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he popped, "you're fucking self-destructive, honestly. I mean, your family is hardly the fucking Brady Bunch. Do you really need this extra baggage around you with some chick your bro used to date and probably fuck?"

"No," I admitted. "No, I don't."

"Then why do you keep it?"

That was a good question. "I…I don't know."

"So that brings me back to my previous question: Do you love her?"

"No," I said again quickly.

"Then why do you put yourself through it?" Garrett demanded. "You're going to lose your hair, mate, with the amount of stress you're going through. Is it worth it? Is _she_ worth it?"

"Yes," I said without thinking. "I mean…I think so. Yes it is. Yes she is. I don't want to give her up."

"Why not?" Garrett questioned. "I mean, if you're not in love with her, why can't you give her up?"

I paused. This was a question I hadn't asked myself. But some part of me already knew the answer. "Because I could. I mean, I _could_ fall in love with her. Not now, but it's possible. I know that I could. I just…haven't…_yet_."

"So… she's like…_the one_?"

"No."

"_Jasper_," Garrett scolded.

I ran a hand over my face. "I mean…you expect me to answer that _now_? How am I supposed to know?"

"Alright, then she's the type of girl who _might be_?"

"I don't believe in that crap."

"What; _love_?"

"Soul mates," I said, although I wasn't sure about love either.

"Who else knows about this?"

Good question. "Uh…_you_."

"What about Peter and Charlotte?" I shook my head. "Your step brother?"

"No."

"_Anyone else_?"

"Um…maybe my step sister. _Kind of_. She…guessed."

"So I'm the only person you've told?"

"Yup."

"What about her?"

"She likes to keep things to herself," I said.

"Fuck," Garrett breathed. "You've been keeping this whole thing bottled up inside?"

"I can handle it, Garrett," I said.

"But it's not _healthy_ to keep it inside."

"You sound like a shrink," I sighed.

"I'm talking sense," he said. "You need to let it go a bit. Relax. Let your hair down."

I actually liked that idea. I needed something – _anything_ – to get my mind off Bella. "What do you suggest?"

"Clubbing," Garrett said. "Alcohol, loud music, _other girls_. It's the perfect thing to let loose."

_Other girls_. "Um…I don't think that's a great idea…"

"Of course it is!" Garrett said. "I mean, you guys aren't exclusive, right? So it's perfect."

"Garrett, I don't know –"

"_Dude_," Garrett said. "You're not talking yourself out of it. Even if you come down with bloody Swine Flu, you're coming clubbing with me tonight. Just to relax. It's not like you have to pick up another chick. Just _relax_. You need to forget about this mystery girl for a few hours."

Loud music. Alcohol. Mindlessness. It all actually sounded pretty good.

"Alright," I agreed. "But if I get drunk, you're cooking me a hangover curing breakfast in the morning."

#

The club was packed, and people were drinking and dancing like it was the end of the world. It was quite surprising, seeing as though it was a Monday night. Garrett and I headed straight to the bar and downed shots of run and whiskey and vodka and whatever else the pretty blonde bartender gave us. She smiled at me a few times, but I gave no interest. She found Garrett much more compliant, though. We even got a few free drinks out of the deal. Eventually, I was hammered and completely carefree. I actually didn't _give a shit_ for once. Garrett was right. It was the exact thing I needed. The stress was just lifted right off my shoulders.

Sometime during the night, Garrett found a couple of girls – one tiny red head, and another tall blonde – and tried to force one on me. Unluckily for him, I wasn't _that_ drunk. Although it was part of his plan, I did not want to get involved with another girl. Bella was enough to handle. The girl put me into tailspins. And after practically baring my soul to her, I couldn't deal with another.

When the tall blonde left my side, I grinned at Garrett and turned to go back to the bar. That was when I saw her.

_Bella_.

My mind raced with questions. Should I run out the door? Should I approach her? Should I hide? What if Garrett sees her? Surely he will recognize her from when we painted the coffee shop. What if he realizes who she is? What is _she_ sees _me_?

She was with some guy who I didn't know. He was holding her, and she looked like she was about to be sick. He was tugging on her arm. She was resisting. I watched as he dragged her off the dance floor and out the back. I watched as she struggled against him. That was when I felt anger flooding my veins.

I didn't want to see Bella with another guy. It reminded me too much of the fact that she _wasn't_ mine. That we _weren't_ exclusive. That it wasn't _certain _that she would stay with me, after everything we had been through. I had been abandoned enough in my life. I didn't want to lose her. I was jealous of her being with someone else, and suddenly I realized what she might have felt like when she thought _I_ was with someone else. The feeling was terrible.

This all told me that, maybe, she didn't want me either.

But all of those concerns and that jealousy were pushed to the back of my mind as I watched her being forced towards the bathroom.

I would not let _anyone_ touch her like that.

I went to take off to the backroom when Garrett grabbed my shoulder.

"Where the fuck are you going?"

I tried to pull away, and he looking towards where I was heading. "Dude, isn't that the girl from the coffee shop?"

"Yes," I said. "Now let me go!"

"Wha–where are you going?"

I was focused on the backroom, where the bathrooms were. Garrett caught on immediately. "It's her, isn't it? She's the girl you were all caught up on."

"Let me _go_, Garrett."

I shoved him away and took off across the dance floor. People swore at me when I knocked them over in my rush, but I didn't give a shit. I just had to find Bella. My head was pounding mercilessly and painfully in the terror of it all; of what could _happen to her_.

She wasn't in the female's bathroom, or the males. I was feeling desperate and distraught. At least three minutes had passed. God knows what he may have done with her. I wanted to hit myself, or something else, or _someone_ else.

That was when I spotted another door further down the dark corridor, with a bathroom symbol and a sign reading, "Staff only."

That was also when I heard a scream. It was a terrified, authoritative, refusing scream that churned my stomach and made me sick with the possibilities of what caused it.

"Bella!" I shouted.

I don't properly recall what happened next. I know I flung the door open. I know I found Bella. The next thing I knew, I had the guy pinned against the wall and blood was gushing out of his nose and mouth.

The next things happened in an even greater blur. I landed three more punches into the guy's face before I was pulled off him. He slumped to the floor, unconscious, and I didn't feel an ounce of regret. Bella wasn't the one who got me off him, either. It was the bouncers.

I struggled hard against their restraints. I didn't know what the guy had been planning to do to Bella, but hearing her scream and seeing how he had been holding her was enough. I wanted to kill him. And the alcohol wasn't exactly helping _quell_ that rage.

"Jasper! Jasper! No, put him down! Let him go! He was protecting me! _Jasper_!"

I could hear Bella's shouts over everything else, but even that was a blur. With two bouncers pushing me along, I was forced out of the room and outside. They already had a cop car waiting for me, and an ambulance behind that. Suddenly, the breadth of what I had done dawned on me.

I was thrown into the cop car after a long struggle. I know that I said some rather _colorful_ things to the police officers. Maybe that was why they struck me over the back of the head with their baton.

My head pounding, I turned around in the backseat, desperately trying to find Bella. I saw the guy who had attacked her being aided towards the ambulance. He was alive, at least. I saw crowds of people, and the bouncers, and strangers. But no Bella. Where was she?

Finally, after a desperate search of the crowd, I found her. Bella was there, standing on the curb in a little dress, her hair a mess and her makeup smudged, mascara streaming down her face, mixed with her salty tears. The sight was the most heartbreaking thing I had ever seen; even more so when Garrett appeared at her side, and she leant into his chest, absolutely breaking down. They didn't know each other, but they knew me. I guessed that that was enough. And the only thing I wanted to do was return to them and wrap my arms around Bella and tell her that she would be okay and that _no one_ would hurt her like that creep had _ever again_.

But I couldn't do that, because I was being carted off to jail.

I saw Bella getting smaller and smaller. I could practically hear her say my name as she murmured it to herself.

"_Jasper_."

The thought tugged at my heart, and I didn't want to be pulled away from her. I didn't want to lose her again.

A moment later, we rounded the corner, and I lost sight of Bella. Rubbing my hand over my face, I was surprised to see blood coating it when I pulled it away. I didn't know whose blood it was, either.

But whatever had happened, or was about to happen, I knew that it was worth it. I wouldn't let anyone hurt Bella again. That included the people in my god damn family.

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><p><strong>Beta'd by the absolutely <strong>_**amazing**_** LithiumReaper.**

**I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. My surgery has been cancelled for now, so the next chapter shouldn't be too far away. Thank you for reading!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I apologize for the late update, but I hope this makes up for it. Thank you for all of your wonderful reviews on the last chapter.**

**A big thank you to my beta, LithiumReaper, yet again. She has been working very hard lately, and she performed her magic on this chapter yet again. Thank you, lovely.**

**I would also recommend listening to_, "If You Only Knew" by Shinedown_ during this chapter. I listened to this while writing it. It's a lovely song (and one which LithiumReaper showed me, so big thanks to her).**

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><p><strong>Bella:<strong>

"Jasper! Jasper! No, put him down! Let him go! He was protecting me! _Jasper_!"

Limbs were flying all around the room. I couldn't comprehend what was going on, it happened so fast. I just found myself shouting for Jasper, hoping he would hear me, trying to reach out to him. But I couldn't. When I stuck my arm out, someone pulled it away, wrapped me in a steel grip, and wouldn't let me go.

"Calm down, Miss. It will all be okay."

There was another bouncer behind me. Bret was crumbled on the floor, coughing up blood, but I couldn't care less. Someone in white appeared next to him. But I couldn't find Jasper. I had to find Jasper.

"Let me go!" I shouted at the bouncer. He wasn't going to, but I fought too hard, and eventually shimmied my way out of his grip.

The pavement was crowded with people trying to get a look. I pushed my way through the crowd, blue and red lights flashing in my eyes, blinded by tears and unable to hear anything over my pounding heart. Had Jasper really just jumped into a fight for me? Had he really just decked the bartender? Was he _really _just taken away by the police?

These questions were answered as soon as I spotted the police car up ahead. Jasper was fighting against the arms holding him. I shouted for him again, but he didn't have time to react. Not before the baton struck the back of his head.

"JASPER!" I screamed.

I went to run to him, but I felt yet another person grab my arm. I turned around, ready to yell at them, when I saw Angela.

"Bella! What is going on?"

I probably looked like a mess. I knew I was crying. I was probably splattered in blood. I _felt_ like my heart had been ripped from my chest. I couldn't answer.

Angela glanced down at the cars. Her eyes widened. I looked up there too, and I saw him. He was staring back at me through the glass, and I couldn't help it. I said his name again.

"Jasper."

I wanted to run after him. I wanted to grab him and wrap my arms around him and never let him go. But they were _pulling him away_.

Someone appeared at my side. I looked up and saw Garrett. Garrett was silent, but he knew. I looked back to Jasper, and I couldn't help my tears. I leant into Garrett's chest and he wrapped his arms around me. Slowly, Jasper started to fade away. Then he was gone.

"_Jasper_ is in there?" Angela demanded. "Jasper _Whitlock_?"

"What happened, Bella? What happened to Jasper?" Garrett asked calmly.

I pulled away. "Jasper attacked the barman. The barman was…he was assaulting me."

"He _assaulted you_? I'll kill him."

"What is going on?" Angela demanded next to me.

"I have to get to Jasper," I told Garrett. "I have to tell the police what happened. It wasn't Jasper's fault. He was protecting me."

"Bella!" Angela insisted as I went to turn away. "What is going _on_?"

I turned to face her, head on, and didn't flinch as I summarized the last weeks in a few sentences. "Ever since New Years I've been having sex with Jasper Whitlock. It has gotten more complicated than just that. And he just saved me from an assault in the bathroom."

Angela blanked at me. I didn't have time to deal with her whiplash, so I turned back to Garrett. He seemed more adjusted to the idea. "What police station will they be going to?"

"We should talk to that police man over there," he said, nodding to the one by the ambulance. "Give your story. Then they'll take you down."

I nodded and soon we were heading over to the ambulance. The police officer was just finishing talking to the paramedic when we arrived.

"Can I help you, ma'am?"

"Where are they taking Jasper? I would like to go in and give my statement."

"Statement? For what, ma'am?"

"I was in the bathroom. Jasper was protecting me from an assault by the barman. I need to give my statement. It was in defense."

The police officer nodded. "You can come down to the station with me and give your statement there." He then turned towards Garrett. "And who are you?"

"I saw Jasper heading into the bathroom after he saw that pig manhandling Bella."

"Did you see the assault firsthand?"

"No," Garrett said. "But I saw the barman leading Bella into the bathroom, which was why Jasper followed. And I can speak for his character."

The police officer nodded a little more tentatively. "What about you, ma'am?" he asked Angela.

"I'm her friend," Angela answered, pointing to me. "Emotional support."

The police officer nodded. "Alright. Come with me, and I will take you to the station."

The ride to the police station was too long. I felt like we were in the car for hours. When we arrived, the police officer showed us to the front desk, where the receptionist took down our details, and we were told to wait in the waiting room. An officer would be with us soon.

"When can we see Jasper?" I asked desperately. "Is he okay? When can I _see him_?"

"Someone will be with you soon," the police officer said. "He is in questioning right now."

"It wasn't his fault!" I insisted. I was emotionally distraught and desperate. Even though it was pointless, I felt like reiterating that fact was the only way I could help him right then. And I wanted to help him. _Because he had saved me and sacrificed himself._

The police officer nodded kindly. "Someone will see you shortly."

The police officer walked away. I was twitching and fidgeting in my seat. The others tried to reassure me, but to no avail.

"Bella, it'll be okay," Angela said. "They can't charge him if he was protecting you. It was necessity."

"But they need my statement. I need to tell them what happened. It wasn't Jasper's _fault_!"

"Bella, you do need to calm down. Just breathe. Jasper will be okay," Garrett soothed.

"They hit him!" I said, a little too loudly. "He was _bleeding_! I need to see him!"

Angela and Garrett shared a strange look that was half-shocked and half-entertained. I wanted to slap them both.

"Just try and calm yourself, Bella," Angela said simply. "They'll see us soon."

They didn't see us soon. It took them an hour to come and take me into the office. A female police officer sat me down in a questioning room and pushed a cup of coffee towards me. I didn't drink it.

"For the record, what is your full name and birth date?"

"Isabella Marie Swan. Thirteenth of September 1987."

The woman smiled. "And now Bella, could you please recall to me the event which occurred tonight?"

I told the woman everything that happened. I explained that I had been at the club with my friend, and had started talking to Bret. I explained our conversation, what I had told him at the beginning. I explained how we were dancing and how I felt sick. I explained how he whisked me to the bathroom. Then I explained how I threw up, and demanded to go home, and he tried to kiss me so I hit him. Then I explained how he grabbed me again, and how I screamed, and how Jasper appeared out of nowhere and pulled Bret off me.

We then took photos. The woman took photos of the bruises on my wrists and arms, where Bret had grabbed me. She took photos of my face, to identify me. When we were finished, the woman had absolutely no emotional reaction. I felt absolutely terrible. I wanted to scream at her that it wasn't Jasper's fault. I wanted to _force her_ to admit it. I wanted to see him. I wanted to know he was okay.

"And what is your relationship to Jasper Whitlock?" she asked then.

I paused and lost my words. How was I meant to answer this? How could I explain it? I could barely understand what was going on_ myself_. We were sleeping together. We were fighting a lot. We were kind of flitting around each other in every other sense of the word. What the hell _was it_?

"Um…it's complicated," I said idiotically.

Finally, the woman had a response. She raised an eyebrow, and I felt like an idiot. "Are you in a committed relationship with Jasper Whitlock?"

_Committed._ Committed. What does that word even _mean_? We were having sex. We were _exclusive_ in that sex. But we weren't a _couple_. Committed in what sense of the word?

"We're in a physical relationship," I said.

The woman gave me a funny look, and I had the distinct impression that I was being judged. "Is Mister Whitlock your boyfriend, Miss Swan?"

"No."

The woman's eyebrows shot into her head. "I see."

"What?" I demanded.

"Nothing."

Then I caught on. She thought that this was just some drunken fight; that I was in the bathroom with another man, so Jasper got jealous and attacked him. She thought I was lying. She thought that Jasper was a jealous lover and I was messing with them all.

"I would like to speak to another officer," I said.

"Excuse me?"

"I would like another officer to take my statement. I feel as though you have passed judgment on what you think happened without hearing all of the facts. I would like to speak to another officer who will not pass a biased judgment whilst I am sitting here telling you what happened."

The woman looked shocked. I didn't care. I wanted Jasper out and safe, and I wouldn't let anyone believe that something different happened in that room. Jasper would _not_ pay for my mistakes.

"I have recorded your statement word for word. That will be unnecessary," she said. "But I assure you that we will consider all of the facts. I appreciate your time."

The woman went to leave, but I had to stop her. I had to ask. "Where's Jasper? Is he okay? When will he get out? What do we do now?"

"Another officer will be in to see you soon. Please take a seat in the waiting room."

I hated this. I hated that no one would tell us what was going on. I hated that no one would _do anything_. Jasper was innocent. I wanted him out straight away.

Garrett and Angela were in the waiting room. Garrett had given his statement to another officer. They started talking to me as soon as I sat down, but I didn't hear their questions. I didn't know what was really going on. I just wanted to see Jasper. After him being struck with that baton and whisked away in the police car, it was all I cared about.

An hour later, a police man came over and took us into a meeting room. He looked exhausted; it was the middle of the night by this time. All of us were at our wits end.

After preliminary introductions, I demanded to know what was going on. I wouldn't stand for any more polite conversation.

"Please, just tell us what's going on? When is Jasper being released?"

The police officer looked reluctant. "Mister Whitlock is in our holding cells, where he will spend the night. Mister Hanson is in the hospital, where he has sustained a concussion and a broken jaw. He will be pressing charges. He claims that you and him were rendezvousing in the bathroom, willingly, and that Mister Whitlock attacked him."

"That's a lie!" I screamed. The entire room jumped, and I was out of my chair. I was crying again. Tears blinded me and I felt like a wreck; not only because Jasper was going to be accused of something he didn't do, but because Bret was claiming that I lied. That he didn't attack me; that I had _lied_ about something like that. I couldn't stand it. I wanted to break down. But I couldn't.

"Miss Swan, I ask you to please calm down," the officer said softly.

"Bella," Angela said. "Sit down, please."

Garrett was the only one who didn't want me to stop.

"But it's a lie!" I insisted. "Jasper was protecting me! It's not fair! You have to let him out!"

The police officer nodded kindly. "Miss Swan, I understand that you are upset. I recommend that you seek legal advice on these matters. Does Jasper have any family or next of kin that we can contact for you?"

I nod, and try to push the tears away. I hate the thought of having to bring them into this, but I know we have to.

"He has family in Forks," I say. "And…uh…roommates here in Seattle."

The police officer nodded. "I recommend that you contact them soon. Jasper is legally allowed one phone call, but I recommend that you insure it is to the right person."

"When can we get him out?" Garrett asked.

"Jasper is okay. He has had a bit of a hit on the head and a bleeding nose, but other than that, he is healthy," the police officer said. "His bail has been posted at $15,000. Are you aware of the processes that include posting bail?" We all shake our heads, and the police officer nods. "You must post ten percent of the bail to get Jasper out. If this is all you post, and he appears on his court day, you will not be required to pay the rest, but you will not receive your ten percent back. If you post the entirety of bail now, and he appears on his court day, you will receive all of your bail back."

"Jasper is going to have a court day?" I asked, a little too obtusely.

The police officer nodded again. "It is a charge of assault and battery. He will need to make an appearance in court."

That is the end of my tether. I drop my head onto the desk, and sobs rock my body. I feel a hand start to soothe me. Angela is there, trying to understand. But how can she understand, when I don't even understand myself?

"I recommend that you all go home. Mister Whitlock will still be here in the morning, and you all need your rest."

They talked around me, but I didn't really comprehend what was going on. We ended up walking out of the police station and catching a cab back to our apartment. We dropped Garrett off first and Angela got his number so that we could contact him in the morning. Then Angela and I headed back to our place. It was the most awkward car ride in existence.

"You didn't tell me," Angela said when we got back into the apartment. "Is that why you've been acting so strangely for the last few weeks – you've been sleeping with Jasper Whitlock?"

I didn't say a thing. I walked into the kitchen, got a glass of water and took some painkillers, and then started heading towards my room.

"That's _really_ not healthy, Bella. I mean _damn_. Jasper Whitlock? Why would you ever do that?"

"I really don't want a lecture right now," I said quietly.

"He's Edward's _brother_, Bella. _Brother_."

"Leave me alone, please?"

"You should never have done it. Do you not realize how _idiotic_ it was?"

I spun around, my patience at the end of its tether. "It's _none_ of your business!"

Angela looked completely shocked. "Bella…"

I shook my head. I was crying again. It seemed like a reflex thing. I would always cry. _Because I was pathetic._

"I can't deal with this right now. I can't deal with listening to you tell me what I did wrong and right. I just _can't_."

"Exactly!" Angela insisted. "Look what you've gotten yourself into by being with Jasper! It's not _healthy_!"

I couldn't stand this. I knew that Angela was just shocked and angry because I kept secrets, but I couldn't stand it. I didn't want to listen to her. I had had _enough_. I was too worried about Jasper to _care _about anything else.

"Jasper is the _best_ thing that has happened to me in the last few _years_!" I yelled at her. "And if you didn't realize, he just _saved me_ from a damn near sexual _assault_ in a bathroom! So get _off_ my back. I don't want to talk about it. I _want_ to go to bed!"

Angela stepped back, shell-shocked. I waited for a few moments for her to speak, but she didn't. So, I turned towards the door to my bedroom, opened it, walked through, and slammed it shut behind me.

:::

The phone rang at six o'clock in the morning. I hadn't slept all night, so I answered it quickly. I had been tossing and turning all night, feeling almost empty. But I wasn't tired.

When I answered it, however, I almost had a heart attack. "Hello?"

"Bella! Is that you?"

"_Jasper?_"

It was definitely Jasper's voice. It had to be. But the shock of it was intense. How could he be calling _me_?

"Bella! Oh shit, you're alright! Thank god! I've been going out of my mind. They wouldn't let me take my phone call and…_shit_. Thank fuck."

"Jasper," I breathed almost to myself. "What – but – how – why – how are you? Are you okay? What's going on?"

Jasper laughed. It sounded pained, but it was still a laugh. "I'm fine, Bella. Are you?"

"I'm fine," I said, almost puzzled.

"Good," he sighed. He sounded incredibly relieved. "I just…I had to check that you were okay."

"How are you calling me? How did you get this number? Is something going on?"

I could imagine Jasper smiling. "I have a legal right to one phone call, right? Thought I'd use it. And the police guy you talked to was nice enough to give me the number you put on the forms you filled in."

"Oh," is all I manage to say.

"It's about time _I_ call _you_, don't you think?"

My apology comes out in a rush. "I'm so sorry, Jasper. About all of this. Thank you…thank you for saving me. I'm just so sorry."

"Don't thank me. Any half-decent person would have done the same thing."

"But a half-decent person _didn't_. _You _did," I tell him. "So thank you. And I am so sorry that you got hurt. I…I never meant for that to happen."

"I know," Jasper said seriously. "Don't be sorry. I wouldn't have done _anything _differently."

"But you got hurt."

"And you _didn't_ get hurt any further. That's what's important. I couldn't have lived with myself if…if that guy had put another _hand _on you!"

There was absolutely anger and ferocity in his voice. It was startling. "Jasper," I steadied. "It's okay."

"No! It's not okay! That bastard hurt you and I won't stand for it!"

"He's pressing _charges_, Jasper. That's what we have to worry about now."

Jasper paused, and then laughter came. "At least I went down swinging though, huh?"

I smiled and shook my head at the same time. "What we have to worry about now is getting you _out_."

"I swear if I get my hands on that guy again I'll –"

"Jasper! Listen to me!" I scold. "We have to get the money for bail and find you a lawyer. _That's_ what we have to focus on right now."

Jasper was quiet for a moment. "I don't want you to have to worry about it. I'll…I'll sort it out."

"_No_," I said. "I will. You've used your phone call. Now you need to tell me what you need me to do and who I should call. We will pull together to get the bail money."

"No," Jasper said. "You can't pay for me."

"I _will_," I insist. "I owe you that much."

"You don't owe me a thing –"

"_Jasper_, don't argue with me on this."

Jasper sighed. "How much is bail?"

"$1,500 for ten percent of the bond. That'll get you out. Then we have to find you a lawyer."

"You can't afford all of that," he said.

This wasn't a dig. It was true. I could barely make rent. "I'll make do," I promised. "I'll sell some things. I will _get_ the money."

Jasper was silent again. I could imagine him running a hand over his face, leaning against the wall, completely shattered. I wanted to be there next to him. I wanted to comfort him. The distance between us was torturous.

"You can't. Lawyers cost too much. We'll just take the court appointed lawyer. And…sell my guitar. It's an antique. It'll fetch a couple hundred."

"We are _not_ selling your guitar," I insisted.

"You have to, Bella."

"No, I don't. I'll get the money. It will be _okay_."

Jasper was silent again. He was battling with something inside of him. I heard him taking deep breaths, sighing, groaning. He was working something out.

"I can call my family," he said eventually, although I could hear that he didn't want to. "I can call them and they'll come with the money. I can do that. Or…tell Garrett to call them. That'll work."

Jasper didn't really want to call his family. He didn't want to drag them into this. He didn't want to be reminded, yet again, that he was the black sheep and he could live up to the crappy expectations Carlisle gave him.

Then it hit me.

I did have the money.

It was sitting in a box underneath my bed, largely forgotten.

I just needed to be reminded of Edward to remember that.

"I have the money," I said at once.

Jasper sounded like he was suffering from mental whiplash. "Wait – what – how – _what?_"

"I have the money," I repeated. "I'll be down at eleven to bail you out. You don't need to call them."

"No, Bella, what are you about to do? Don't go doing anything reckless!"

"I'm _not_," I repeated. "I _have_ the money. Trust me."

"Bella, please tell me what you're doing."

"I'll explain when I get there. Be _ready_."

And then I hung up the phone without another word.

I don't know why I didn't think of it before. But then again, I had tried to forget all of the things that brought back memories from Forks. But right then, remembering Forks didn't matter. Neither did Edward, or the ghosts of my past. The only thing that mattered was getting Jasper out safely.

I dove under my bed and pulled out the box. Inside it I kept the oddest knickknacks from my childhood and teenage years. They were for memories, more than anything; no monetary value. A piece of paper here, a photograph there, they weren't anything special. That was until I got to the bottom of the box and found a slick black jewelry container.

My hands were shaking as I held the box and pushed everything else back under my bed. I hadn't looked at this for years. But I hadn't gotten rid of it, either. Maybe that explained just how fucked up I was.

I flipped open the lid, and sure enough, they were in there; a necklace, earrings and ring set. They were beautiful, if you are into that sort of thing; emerald green gems lined with diamonds, and set in silver. I was breathless when I had received them in junior year. But opening them then, so many years later, I just saw them as pretentious.

_It had been our anniversary. Edward had taken me out to the little Italian restaurant where we had our first date. I had forced myself into a pretty blue dress, make up, and butterfly heels for the occasion. But I didn't feel beautiful. I felt like I was a toddler, running to catch up, dressed in a try-hard princess dress whilst the others around me wore their designer gowns._

_The night had progressed. We ate, drank, and talked happily. The waitress kept on trying to flirt with Edward, but he ignored her. This made my heart beat faster. The thought that he wasn't interested in someone as beautiful as her. _Only me.

_Now, looking back, it seems like he wasn't interested in her, not because he was with me, but because she was a waitperson. _

_It was surprising that he would even go out on a date with the daughter of a middle class cop. But then again, being a sheriff, no matter how small the income did bring with it certain social advancements._

_It was just after dessert when we decided to exchange presents. I got Edward a watch; I had saved my wages and pocket money for two years to afford it. Still, it didn't cost anything over two hundred dollars. But I felt like I needed to almost _buy _his affections. How else would I keep him with me? He was used to having the best, most expensive things. I had to keep up._

_After Edward thanked me for the watch, he presented me with his gift. The jewelry. It was beautiful, glistening in the box in the candlelight. The emerald green stones were absolutely breathtaking. I changed my earrings and put on the necklace and ring immediately. Edward smiled proudly, as if I was some piece of property he had just renovated. I felt suddenly very heavy, as if I was wearing something that was worth more than me._

_The emerald green clashed with my blue dress, I realized when I got home. I didn't suit the color at all, in fact. But they matched his eyes. Maybe that was why he picked them._

Edward had tried to turn me into a trophy wife even before we were engaged. And I hadn't suited it at all. I wasn't astoundingly beautiful, rich, charming, sociable or graceful. But I did have one thing that a trophy wife needed. Submissiveness.

Sitting on the floor of my room, scrounging on the floor for something to sell for bail money, I felt greatly contrasted to what I was in high school, and the almost fairytale that my life had become. But it wasn't a bad contrast. In fact, even though I was poor, covered in old make up, and in a mess, I felt better and more at home than I _ever_ had with Edward.

That's the funny thing about fairytales. They never tell you what happens _after _the wedding; after the charming, rich, beautiful prince has courted and married the plain girl. Edward and I had never got married. The destruction of our relationship came before we could. But the intent was still there.

I had never been gladder that we didn't than in that moment.

The jewelry set was worth at least five thousand. I knew that. It was more than enough to pay the ten percent bail deposit. I dressed quickly and waited for the clock to strike eight thirty so that I could head down to the pawn shop to sell it off. I didn't care for getting a good deal. As long as I got the $1500 we needed, I would have been happy.

Angela came out at about seven, dressed. She looked apologetic as soon as she saw me.

"Bella," she breathed. "Listen, I'm so sorry about last night. The revelation about you and Jasper just…just was a bit of a shock. I can stay home today and we can figure out his bail and talk to lawyers and all of that. I…I want to be here for you."

"Don't be sorry. It's okay. Really. You really don't have to do that, Angela. You have that big presentation today. I've sorted out the bail money, and Garrett is coming down to the station with me. It will be fine."

"You already got the money and contacted Garrett?" she asked, quite surprised. "But…how'd you get the money?"

"I'm selling something."

"That's a lot of money to get for just selling a little something," Angela pointed out.

I picked up the black case from the counter and opened it. "I'm selling these."

Angela's mouth fell open. She knew _exactly_ what they were. She has seen me wearing them after Edward presented them to me, which was also the _only_ time I wore them. I had never felt good enough for them.

"You still _have them_?" she asked. I nodded simply. Angela blinked a few times to shake herself back into reality. "Wow. I thought you surely would have gotten rid of them after…"

"I didn't," I said. "But now I am."

Angela nodded. "Okay." She took a few moments to compose herself. "Listen, I'll stay home today with you. I need to be there."

"You don't, Angela, really. You can't miss that presentation. Listen, I'll give you a full run down tonight. Really, it's _okay_."

Angela didn't want to agree, but she had to. Her largest client was coming in, and she couldn't miss it. "You have to call me or text me _every hour_ and tell me what's going on, okay? Keep me posted. I'll get home as soon as I can."

Angela left a few minutes later and I stayed at the counter, willing the clock to go faster. When eight rolled around, I grabbed a cab and headed towards the nearest pawn shop.

The old man who ran the shop was thrilled to have a customer first thing in the morning; he was even more thrilled when he saw what I wanted to sell. But then he hid that excitement, and began to pretend that it wasn't a big score.

"Hmm…yes…" he said as he peered over the jewelry, looking through a microscope. "Yes…as I expected…fake…yes." He looked up at me and smiled a little. "I cannot offer you anything over $1000. I apologize, but these, I fear, are fake stones."

I nodded in understanding. I knew how to play this game. "They are? Oh, well, I suppose I'll just take them back then, try somewhere else. That's okay. Thank you."

I took the pieces and put them back in their box. Just before I went to walk out the door, the little bespectacled man called out, "No! Ma'am, give me a moment! Let me take another look."

I smiled victoriously and handed them back over. The man took one more look and said, "Three and a half thousand. That's all I can offer. I still need to make a profit in reselling, you know."

I felt ecstatic. Three and a half thousand. That was more than double what we needed.

"Deal," I said at once.

It took another twenty minutes to get the money, and at quarter past nine I was walking out of the pawn shop with three and a half thousand dollars cash in my bag and a lightened conscience. I felt like a load was off my shoulders. I didn't think that getting rid of some green gemstones would do that.

Garrett and I met at a café for breakfast. I didn't want to eat a thing; I was too focused on getting Jasper out of jail. But Garrett insisted that I get some food in my stomach and calm myself. We had the money. Jasper would be okay. Everything would work out.

I tried to tell him that until I saw Jasper with my own eyes, and until those charges were dropped, everything would _not_ be alright. He told me to stop being such a worry-wart. With that, I knew why Jasper spent so much time with him. Garrett was light, easy, and carefree; a contrast to Jasper's dark.

It was ten thirty when we left for the police station and just before eleven when we arrived. When I walked up to the counter and posted Jasper's bail, the police officer behind the counter was rather surprised. After counting the money, he called over another police officer, who led us to where Jasper was being held.

I had been in police stations hundreds of times in my life. When your father is a sheriff, you practically grow up in one. But I had never been on the other side of the law; I had never been in one visiting a detainee, instead of a detainer.

Jasper was in the furthest cell back. Apparently he had been making too much noise the entire night, demanding his phone call and to know what was going on. With every step we took getting closer to him, my heart bet faster.

When we approached Jasper jumped to his feet. He was dressed in the same clothes from the night before; jeans and a plaid shirt over a white t-shirt. Only his t-shirt was splattered in blood, his plaid shirt was torn, his hair was a mess and he looked exhausted and pale. That didn't stop him from smiling when he saw us though.

The police officer unlocked the gate and Jasper jumped out, as if scared he would be sealed back inside. Garrett, who was in front of me, greeted him first. Their hug was happy, and Jasper laughed heartily. It was good to see him so thrilled.

"You never can keep your nose out of trouble, can you?" Garrett teased, clipping Jasper's ear.

Jasper laughed and bowed his head, his eyes shooting up to meet mine. I didn't know what to make of that look. I had a distinct need to run up and hug him, like I had when I was on the phone with him, only this want was dampened by physical insecurities. We still had the shadow of that weekend following us around. I was still frightened. He had still revealed too much. We still had his family riding on our backs.

"Bella," he said, almost breathlessly.

"Hi."

"So you saved me," he chuckled. "Bit poetic, isn't it?"

"Boy saves girl, and then girl rescues boy," I said.

Jasper smiled at me. "How'd you do it? How'd you get the money?"

Garrett looked at me too. He didn't know either. I shook my head at once. Jasper didn't need to know. He didn't need to have to _think_ about Edward.

"Doesn't matter," I said. "C'mon, let's get you home."

There was agreement, and we started heading out. We stopped at the desk to fill out the paperwork.

"That's great, thank you," the secretary said as Jasper handed over the forms. "Your court appointed lawyer has been given your details and the details of your case. She will be in contact with you today to set up a meeting."

"Thanks," Jasper said before turning towards me and Garrett. "Can we get out of here now?"

The cab ride was rather quiet. Jasper and I didn't know what to say to one another. Garrett kept on giving us funny looks. When the cab driver asked us where we were going, things got even stranger.

"The corner of Ninth and Bledisloe," Jasper said.

"And I'll be the corner of Fifth and Third," I called.

"No, no, corner of Ninth and Bledisloe for all of us," Jasper corrected. I turned to him, frowning in confusion, and he said, "I need to talk to you. Please?"

"Okay," I whispered.

When we arrived at Garrett's apartment, where Jasper was staying for the time being, things were even more awkward. I stood in the doorway awkwardly as Garrett and Jasper flitted around each other like fireflies.

"Do you guys want anything to drink?" Garrett offered. "We've got…uh…_beer_…and that's it. Oh, or water. Bella, do you want something to drink? We should probably sit down and talk about our plan of action with this thing."

Jasper was quiet. Garrett looked from me to him, bug-eyed. Eventually, I shook my head. "No thanks. I'm fine."

"Jasper?" Garrett offered. Jasper simply shook his head. I couldn't see the look Jasper gave him, but Garrett sucked in a deep breath and sighed. "Alright, well, I've got some stuff to do…in my…room. Yeah. See you."

Garrett sent me a brief parting look as he disappeared into his bedroom, seemingly almost skittish. Once he was gone, Jasper turned to me. "So, _do _you want a drink?"

"No thanks," I said. Jasper scratched the back of his head nervously. Then he winced, and I was suddenly alert. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Does your head hurt?" I asked quickly.

Jasper smiled at me through his messy hair. "Just the bruise from where they hit me. I'm fine. Chill, Bella."

I nodded awkwardly and the room went quiet. Jasper slouched back against the counter for a moment before pushing himself off and pointing towards the sofa. "Do you want to…sit? It might be easier to talk there."

I nodded and we walked over to the sofa. The blankets next to it and the bag of clothes told me that it was where Jasper bunked.

I sat down nervously and folded my legs up under me. I looked down at my hands, avoiding Jasper's eyes, as he sat down too. Things were quiet for a little while, and I had the distinct feeling that he was watching me.

"Bella," Jasper said calmly.

"Yeah?" I asked, not looking up.

"I need to talk to you. Please look at me?"

It took me a little while to build up my courage, but I did. I saw the concern in his eyes. Immediately, I knew where this was heading.

"Yeah?" I repeated.

"I…I need to ask you this," Jasper began nervously, unsure of how to approach the topic. "I need to know…is there anything I can do for you? Is there anything you need right now? Do you need to talk to anyone about what happened, because I will help you do that? Can I do anything for you?"

"No," I said quickly. "No, I'm fine, really. All we need to worry about now is your court case."

"My court case can wait," Jasper said. "You've saved me enough today. You bailed me out of jail. Now it's time to look after you. You were the one who was really hurt in that bathroom. I just…I want to help you, Bella. He assaulted you."

"I don't need anything," I insisted, although I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I remembered that night, and how he had forced a kiss from me. I remembered how he had grabbed me, and how I had kicked him, and how I had screamed and yelled but he hadn't _stopped_. "I'm really fine. It was nothing."

"Bella," Jasper said, a little more firmly. I felt him reach for my hands, which were fidgeting, my fingers picking at my fingernails. "You don't have to hide how you're feeling. What happened to you was a horrible thing. Don't just push it away. _Please?_"

The look in Jasper's eyes was so sincere. I felt something shift inside of me. Being apart from him for those last few hours had been torturous. And now, even though I still felt like crying, I was still happier than I had been in a long time. And I didn't want to let him go.

I can't explain what happened next. Not really. But then again, I can never really explain why I do some things I do when Jasper is concerned. One moment, I was looking into his eyes, and the next moment, I was kissing him, salty tears running down my cheeks and my eyes slammed shut. I sat over his lap, my hands fisting in his hair as I pulled him closer. I needed him closer. I needed to surround myself in him. I had Bret's touch all over my skin. It itched and scratched and stung. I needed to get it off. I needed Jasper to replace his hands. I needed Jasper to just make it _go away_. I needed his touch to actually make me feel _human_ again, and not like this piece of trash that everybody kicked around.

Jasper managed to pull away and take a breath. I didn't want to open my eyes. I really didn't. I just wanted lose myself. I wanted to be with Jasper. I didn't want to talk.

"Bella," Jasper said as I tried to silence his protests with my kisses. "Bella, what are you doing?"

I stopped and sat back. When I forced myself to open my eyes, I wished that I hadn't. His concern for me was too real.

"I need you, Jasper. I just…I need you," I said.

I couldn't explain it. I just wanted him. I wanted to be close to him. I didn't want him to be pulled out of my arms again. One night was bad enough. One night was enough to make me realize it. There were a lot of things that pulled Jasper and I apart, but when we were forced apart, I couldn't stand it. I went out of my mind worrying about him. I wanted to make sure he was okay. I needed to know that he was safe. I _couldn't_ be away from him. I couldn't let _anyone_ hurt him. Jasper was _mine_. I could deny it all I wanted, and run away from the things in my past because they scared me, but the truth was that there was some sort of tether holding Jasper and I together. I just had to face that. I felt safe with Jasper. I felt whole with Jasper. I felt like I actually _belonged _somewhere for the first time in my life, and that I wasn't just on the fringes of everything, when I was with Jasper. We actually _understood _each other, in a screwed up way.

It was a tether that meant that, no matter how hard I tried to run away, I would always be pulled straight back again.

I could deny it all I wanted, but it was there.

"You can't just push what happened away," he said. "You've got to face it."

"I am facing it. And I don't want to lose you ever again."

Jasper was quiet then. He didn't know what to say, and suddenly I was wishing that I hadn't have said what I did. When he spoke again, his eyes met mine, and I saw something else _entirely_ in them.

"Are you sure?"

"Please stop asking me that."

Jasper smiled. It wasn't a devilish smile, or a cheeky smile, or anything I had seen before. It was something completely new.

"Are…are you okay with it?" I asked then, suddenly worried that I was forcing myself on him.

To answer my question, Jasper leant forward and kissed me again. When he pulled away, I hated it, and I couldn't help my temptations. I pulled him straight back and kissed him hard.

Every one of Jasper's touches made me ache for more. Every time his skin met mine, I felt part of my worries and traumas wash away. We made quick work of our clothes, our hands trailing over each other's bodies. I folded into Jasper's touch. He was delicate with me, as if he was scared that I would break, and I found myself pulling him closer and pushing for more.

Soon only my underwear and his jeans were separating us, and I was on top of him, and his hand found its way down my panties. His thumb made sweet, hot circles on my skin and I arched into him, bucking my hips, convulsing under his fingers. I threw my head back, my eyes closed, as wonderful shots of lightning ran through my body.

As his fingers slowed I looked down to him and kissed him hard. He pushed up further, and I let out a cry. He chuckled sweetly at my response, and I couldn't wait any longer. My hands went to his belt buckle and his hands slipped out of my underwear.

When Jasper steadied my fidgeting hands I almost wanted to scream at him. I didn't want him to stop touching me. I didn't want him to try and convince me that I should be _talking_ to him. I just wanted him inside of me. I wanted to forget that Bret had ever laid a _hand_ on me. I wanted to remember the way it felt to have Jasper's skin against mine. I wanted to be close to him because we had been so far apart for so long. I wanted to feel _safe_ again.

"Bella, I don't have a condom," he said then. This _did_ take me by surprise.

I shook my head and looked up to him. "I'm on the pill. It doesn't matter."

"Are you sure?" he checked.

I didn't need to answer him. Instead, I kissed him, running my hands up and down his body. Jasper's hands went to my waist, my hips, my thighs, cupping my breasts. I loved the feeling of his coarse hands against my skin.

He made quick work of his jeans.

Jasper flipped me over when his jeans were off and my underwear was discarded. I was below him, and his hot weight was pressing down on me. His tanned skin was all over mine and my hands caressed his back and shoulder blades as he positioned himself over me. I could feel his skin beading with sweat, and I wanted to feel his heavy weight on top of me and him inside of me. I wanted to feel close to him, like we were one.

I opened my eyes as Jasper entered me. He opened his too. He leant his forehead on mine as he pushed into me and I pushed forward for him, needing him to go deeper. My body was rocking with contractions as his hands roamed over me, under my back, over my chest, along my thighs, pulling me down the sofa and closer to him. And as my muscles began to contract and my body rocked, I threw my head back in orgasm and so did he. His lips came down on mine and we kissed each other passionately as we rode out the last few seconds of our orgasms.

I didn't leave quickly after we were done. I didn't rush off in a panic or convince myself that I had done a bad thing. I didn't do anything. Instead, we both lay curled up on the sofa, wrapped in each other. I didn't want to leave this place. I didn't want to leave Jasper's arms. I wanted him on my skin. I wanted to smell like him for days. I wanted to stay warm, wrapped in his arms, shielded from the world, _forever._

As we lay there together, covered in one of Jasper's blankets, he toyed with my hair and laid sweet kisses along the back of my neck and shoulders. This is what I liked the best; being completely _shrouded_ in him. It's what I needed. I felt hidden from the world. It made me feel _safe_. I needed to feel safe.

We were in our own little bubble for at least two hours until Jasper's cell phone rang from the pocket of his discarded jeans. We hadn't heard a peep from Garrett; I felt embarrassed, having forgotten that he was still in the apartment, but Jasper assured me that he would get over it.

Jasper scrambled to grab the phone and lay back down with me to answer it.

"Hello?" There was a voice at the other end of the line which I couldn't make out. "Yes, this is him. Oh, okay, I see. Hi. Yes, I am Jasper Whitlock. Okay, alright. Yes, that's fine. Okay. No, that's impossible. What? But I didn't – okay. Right. No. Yes. Okay. Uh…thanks."

Jasper hung up the phone and let out a deep breath.

"What is it?" I asked.

"That was my lawyer."

I sat up immediately. "What did she say?"

Jasper looked shocked. It took him a few moments to figure out what was going on in his own mind. "Apparently…apparently she's not my lawyer anymore."

I frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

Jasper looked thoroughly confused. "Well…she got a message when she returned to her office from meeting a client, just when she was about to call me. I…I have another lawyer. A new one."

"But that's impossible. No one can get you another lawyer apart from _you_."

"That's what I thought, too…"

Jasper and I shared confused glances. A moment later, Jasper's phone rang again. When he picked it up and looked at the caller ID, he swore loudly.

"Shit!"

Jasper sat up with the phone, pulling away from me, and I suddenly felt cold again. "What is it, Jasper? What's going on?"

Jasper shook his head. "This is bullshit!"

"Jasper!" I insisted. "What's going on?"

Jasper looked at me. There was absolute anger in his eyes, which frightened me. It was so far from the peace we had just been in.

"What's going_ on_?" I insisted again.

Jasper took a moment to run his hand through his hair. All the while his phone was still ringing in his pocket. "I know who fucked with my lawyers."

"Who?"

Jasper held the phone out to me. When I read the caller ID, my heart leapt into my chest.

_Carlisle_.

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><p><strong>Proudly Beta'd by LithiumReaper<strong>

**So…what do you all think? Leave your thoughts in a review. I'd love to see them.**

**Also, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everybody! Happy New Year, too, because the next chapter probably won't be out before then. I hope you are all having a fantastic holiday season. Thank you for being such dedicated readers. I love each and every one of you, and hope the holiday season brings you wonderful tidings. **


	13. Chapter 13

**My beta is **_**LithiumReaper**_** and she is awesome. I thank her, so much.**

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><p><strong>Jasper:<strong>

I didn't want to answer my phone. Bella and I had _just_ made some progress, after weeks of flitting around each other. We were finally _talking_ – or at least doing something that was as close to talking as we could _get_. I didn't want to ruin that by answering Carlisle's phone call. He had already fucked with both of us enough. Screwing this up was almost _natural_ for him.

"What the fuck do you want?" I demanded.

Carlisle sucked in a deep, steady breath. "That is no way to greet the man who is about to rescue you from destruction, Jasper."

"I don't need to be rescued. And if I did, you'd be the last port of call."

"_Clearly_," Carlisle agreed, "seeing as though you were bailed out by one _Isabella Swan_."

I glanced to Bella. She was watching me steadily, and she met my glance with a smile. _A smile_. Bella met my glance with a smile when I was on the phone to Carlisle. If this wasn't progress, I didn't know what was.

"I'm disappointed in you, Jasper. I have to find out from contacts that you have been _arrested_. You don't even call your own mother or sister. They would be _so _hurt."

I felt like spitting fire. "What the hell have you done with my lawyers? What the hell was my lawyer talking about, a meeting tomorrow to change over? What the fuck did you do?"

"I have organized you a new one. Jason Jenks. I trust that you will take him and be grateful. He is the _best_ criminaldefense lawyer in Seattle. Tomorrow we meet with a judge to conclude the change."

I looked to Bella. Carlisle thought he was coming down. Carlisle thought he was going to stick his nose in where it didn't belong.

Like hell I was going to let him _near_ Bella.

Carlisle had the ability to hold my family over my head and pull my strings. But this wasn't just about Rosalie and my Mom anymore. This was about Bella. And she had been hurt _enough_ by him. This was one thing that Carlisle could _not_ manipulate me over. He would not come down. Not after what Bella had just _been through _that day. He would not _break her again_.

"There is no '_we'_ in this," I told him. "It's nothing to do with you. So I _ungratefully_ decline your offer."

Carlisle was seething. You could practically _hear_ the steam pouring out of his ears. "You don't have a choice in this, Jasper. We will not have this black spot on the family name. I will protect it at all costs. You will not _question me_."

Of course. Family name. Perception. That was all he cared about.

"How do Rosalie and Mom feel about this?"

Carlisle grunted. "I haven't told any of your siblings or your mother. They need not know."

Of course. Let's just sweep it all under the rug.

The truth was that Carlisle couldn't tell Rosalie and Esme. Not if he didn't want to run the risk of them choosing to help and support me over side with him. This was one of the situations that would _test_ just _how _tightly he had that noose around their necks.

I nodded sarcastically. "Right, well, you know what? I _do_ get a choice in this, Carlisle. And I say fuck off." I snickered then, almost sickly entertained. "I guess the lucky thing about this situation is that I don't share _your name_. I'm a Whitlock. And I always fucking will be."

"Jasper! You will _not_ speak to me like that! I am your father!"

"No, you're not. You're the guy who shacked up with my Mom. And I'm twenty three. I'm not a minor. You have no legal _right_ to have _any say_ in these proceedings. You can shove your lawyer up your ass. Don't bother coming down. You _won't_ be welcomed, and you're most certainly not needed."

With that, I hung up.

Bella looked up at me. I watched every movement she made desperately. I thought for sure she would run away again. Sometimes I felt like she wasn't even real, she disappeared so easily. I had always thought that I moved around a lot; that I dodged everything hard. But Bella was another thing entirely.

"What's going on?" she asked calmly.

"He tried to get me a new lawyer. But I said no."

Bella nodded carefully. She was so distant from me, wrapped in my sheet and closing in on herself again. I felt like I was approaching a bird. If I made any sudden movements, she would take off.

"How did he know that you were in trouble?"

"He has eyes everywhere. Contacts, apparently. I wouldn't be surprised if he's had people tailing me ever since I left home and moved to Texas. Being up here now, he'd be even more eager to keep an eye on me."

Bella shivered noticeably. The thought frightened me, too. Not being able to get away from Carlisle. It was a terrifying thought. I had always thought that I was escaping him; moving from city to city, never staying in one place too long, minimal contact. I always thought that I was distancing myself from him. But the reality was that I probably never was. Not really.

He still had a noose around my neck, too. He was still my puppeteer.

"You're okay with giving up the lawyer? He could have helped, if he really is that good," Bella said. "Don't say no just for me."

I was astounded by her bravery. She wanted me to have the best, even if it involved including Carlisle.

"I don't need Carlisle's help. I don't care how good he is. I can't take him."

Bella nodded slowly. It was a complicated situation. Neither of us wanted the lawyer, but we both knew that we could need it.

"We should go down to the police station," Bella said then.

That took me by surprise. "Why?"

"Well, we need to get back in contact with your lawyer, so we should get her details. And…and I need to go there to press charges."

I paused for a moment, and then it hit me. "You're going to press charges against the barman?"

"Yes," Bella answered calmly. "He can't get away with what he did. It's the right thing to do. I can't stand to see him walk free. And it might even help your case. They have my statement and the photographs. I can go down and speak to an officer now. It's better to do it sooner, rather than later. I should have done it last night, but I just…didn't think about it. I was too preoccupied."

I didn't need to think twice about this. Of course I wanted her to press charges. Of course I wanted him to go down. In fact, if I had it my way, we'd skip the courts and settle it the old fashioned way, with our fists.

I nodded. "We can go now. Come on. I'll take you."

Bella nodded and stood up, still covering herself with the sheet. She put her clothes back on without dropping it, and this worried me a little bit. It was either because she was self-conscious, or she was closing up on me again. I sorely hoped it was neither.

"We should tell Garrett what's going on," Bella volunteered when we were both dressed.

Before I had a chance to reply, the door to Garrett's bedroom opened, and he appeared in the room. "And here I was thinking you had forgotten about me."

"You – uh – you know?" I stumbled.

Garrett nodded and screwed up his nose. "I heard _everything_."

This didn't seem to faze Bella at all. It made me think that maybe she wouldn't run away.

"Let's go," she said. "I need to get this over with. Please?"

"I'll come with you," Garrett volunteered. "I can't just wait around here."

Bella and I nodded. We left ten minutes later.

#

At the police station Bella took the lead. When we arrived she went to the receptionist and asked to speak to an officer. When the receptionist inquired why, Bella answered calmly and evenly, "I was here last night, when I made a statement concerning an assault occurring at the club called the Outback. I would like to speak to a police officer in order to press charges."

The receptionist nodded and told us to take a seat, saying that an officer would be with Bella soon. We planned for Bella to talk to the officer, before trying to track down my lawyer. It only made sense.

Bella was unnervingly calm as we waited. She didn't fidget, like I did, or keep changing her sitting position, like Garrett. She just sat there, calm and still, taking deep breaths. I would have been more comfortable if she _had_ of been nervous. At least then I would have been able to read her. Sitting so still, I had no idea what was going through her mind.

"Bella?" I whispered, placing my hand on hers in an attempt to get her attention. "What are you thinking?"

Bella didn't look at me. She barely reacted at all. "Preparing myself," she said calmly.

"For what?"

"To be brave."

I don't know what to say to that. Her words held so much weight. She had to be brave about so much. So I let my hand slip away and left her to be. If I pushed her too much, she might run. She seemed grateful to be free of my touch. It almost set her on edge.

When the police officer came to take Bella into an interview room, I didn't go with her. It wasn't because I didn't want to. It was because she wanted to do it alone. That made sense, too; she would be more willing to tell the police officer everything if someone else wasn't around to make her downplay what happened.

"Jasper," Garrett said from beside me, although it didn't really register. I was leaning forwards, elbows on my knees, going out of my mind because I hated not _doing something_. "Jasper. Jasper!"

"_What_?"

"Your phone is ringing."

Roughly, I reached into my pocket and yanked out my phone. Of course, it was Carlisle again. I cancelled the call and turned my phone off without another thought.

"Is he coming down?" Garrett asked, nodding to my phone as I slipped it away.

"I told him not to, but I wouldn't be surprised if he did."

Garrett nodded. "Any contingency plans for when he does turn up?"

"United front?" I guessed.

"What about the rest of your family? Do they know you're in trouble?"

"He hasn't told them yet," I said. "It…it's complicated."

Garrett nodded at the clock. "We've got time. Tell me what's going on. I'll need to be up to speed for when the prick arrives."

"You don't want to get into this shit," I told him.

"I'm already in it. And from the sounds of it, your stepfather is an ass. Let me help. You guys don't have to do this alone."

I still wasn't sure about telling him. "Once you're involved, you're in it till the end," I told him. "If Carlisle gets wind of you, and gets an idea that you know anything about his family, you'll be on his radar. You don't want that."

"I do. Because you're my friend, and so is Bella. Now tell me."

For the next few minutes I told Garrett a brief, summarized version of the situation with Carlisle and Bella and Charlie and the rest of my family. I told him about how I came to Forks, and about my mother and Rosalie, and how Carlisle had to be careful with how he played it, because he had to keep his family close and together and keep them far enough away from me. I told him about how Carlisle played games, and that I had to be careful too, because if I pushed him _away_ too much, I could lose my mother and sister, but if I let him too _close_, I could lose Bella. I told him about what happened with Charlie, and this was the hardest part to go over, because even Bella and I hadn't discussed it _properly_. Garrett was still like a plank of wood during that part. I could see anger burning in his eyes, though.

The story took a maximum of five minutes. Garrett listened and didn't butt in, and I didn't bother with trying to make excuses for any of it. There was no point.

When I was done explaining Garrett stared at the ground blankly for a moment, letting it all process. That was the worst.

"Dude, say something," I said.

"That's really…fuck," he managed.

"That's a way to put it."

"No wonder you were so torn up about sleeping with Bella. And I just thought you were getting all over-emotional for no reason."

"Yeah."

Garrett scratched the back of his head, still trying to come to terms with it. I loved the fact that he wasn't preaching to me, telling me that I had done so many things wrong, and that I had fucked up. He was accepting it and processing it because he knew I didn't need a fucking lecture; I just needed a friend.

"So what do we do, when Carlisle gets down here, then?" he asked eventually. "What's the plan of attack?"

I thought to the backroom, and to Bella, who was facing a police officer alone to lay charges of assault. I was facing charges of assault and battery. All the while Bella and I were still trying to work out shit from the past which Carlisle dumped on us as kids. It was enough. More than enough. The only thing holding me back from cutting Carlisle off completely was Rosalie, her kid, and my mom.

"He's got no business in this, sticking his nose in where it doesn't belong. Just as long as he stays away from Bella, I'm happy."

Garrett nodded, but didn't say a word. He looked straight ahead, but the little wince he gave said that he was thinking something which I might not like.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Too late. I'm already worrying. Spit it out."

Garrett looked at me and then glanced to the door that Bella had disappeared behind when the officer came to get her. I thought of her in there alone, again, and I felt like I was choking.

"It's not my place to say anything," he said.

"I don't care what your 'place is'. I give you permission to say whatever the fuck you want. Spit it out."

Garrett looked to his hands, stretching them out and then tangling them together again. "It's just…you're with her, Jasper. And as long as you're with Bella, and still in communication with Carlisle and the rest of that family, you'll never be able to keep him away from her. She'll…she'll never be able to move on. And neither will you."

I looked to the ground, because Garrett was right. He had taken all of five minutes to put to words something that I had been trying to deny for weeks.

"It's just…" he began again, trying to explain what he was saying, "she lost people because of him, indirectly or directly or whatever, and by the sounds of it, that's fucked her up a bit. And you've lost a lot because of him too. It's poisonous. Staying tied to that family, and to Carlisle, isn't going to help you. But he's got you by the balls and is still pulling your strings because he's got your mother and sister. And because of that, and because you're with Bella, he's got her too. He's still toying with you all."

"You shouldn't have to deal with him during this court case and all the stuff that's going on now," Garrett said, "but you do. It's fucked up. You…you can't properly get over and move on from all the shit that happened in your past if you're forever hanging around him, even by just a few strings."

Garrett had the situation down to a T. I never knew the guy was so perceptive until then. He just highlighted the point that I had been dodging for months; I had to choose between moving on and getting away from Carlisle and the poisonous snake that he was and in the cross-fire risking losing Rosalie and my mother, or sticking around and forever being caught in the tangled web that Carlisle weaved.

I stood up then. I didn't truly know why. I just couldn't sit around and wait any longer. I needed to do something, as if doing something would get my mind off the fact that I had some tough decisions to make.

"Jasper," Garrett said, "where are you going? I didn't mean – I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't," I said quickly. "I just need to do something. I just…I need to get the lawyer's contact information and call them now. But…thanks."

That was all I could really stand to say.

#

**Bella:**

"So, Miss Swan," the police officer began as I sat in the interview room, my heart pounding heavily in my chest. I didn't let my nervousness show, though. I had to be steady. _Because this is important._ "This conversation is being recorded for evidential purposes. Are you comfortable with this?"

"Yes."

"Great. Could you please explain to me what are you here for, today?"

"I came in last night after an assault in the club, The Outback. I made a statement to a female officer about being assaulted by the barman, Bret. She took photographs of my injuries that I received in the altercation and took my statement. After thinking about it overnight, I have decided that I would like to press charges. That is why I am here today."

The police officer nodded calmly. "Why did you not press charges last night, Miss Swan?"

"I was distracted and stunned," I answered calmly. "Jasper Whitlock, who is a close friend of mine, was arrested. My thoughts were on helping him and getting his bail. It was also quite a frightening experience. I didn't think about it, because so much was happening."

The police officer nodded again. I wished that he would say something, _anything_, to reassure me. Tell me that I was doing the right thing. Or that this wasn't my fault. Or that I was actually helping. Or that everything would be _okay_. Or that I could actually do this. Just _something, anything _to make me feel like more of a human being.

But no. He didn't say a word. It was professional, but it was infuriating. I had an illogical need to just be told that everything would be _okay_.

"For our records, could you please restate your accounts of the events occurring last night?" he asked kindly.

I took a deep breath and did just that. I told him the truth; exactly what I had told the woman the night before. I explained that I was there with a friend, and met Bret, and told him what I had said and how we danced and how I felt sick and how he forced me into the bathroom and how I fought against him and how Jasper came in, guns blazing. When I was done, I was doing it again. I was crying. Or I was about to cry. The tears hadn't yet spilt, and I didn't want them to, either. But they probably would.

"Thank you, Miss Swan. If you head to the reception area, a secretary will give you the contact details of your court appointed lawyer. You should organize to meet with them at the nearest possible moment."

We spoke for a few more minutes before I left. My knees were shaking as I walked down the corridor and back to the waiting area. I felt cold, as if my veins had turned to ice, and I hugged my arms around my chest, scared that I might collapse if I wasn't careful. In essence, I just felt empty and alone.

I walked into the waiting room. The first person I saw was Garrett, who rose from his seat, a look of concern washing over his face. He smiled awkwardly at me and looked to his right. That was when I saw Jasper.

Jasper was on the phone, his back to me. A moment later, he hung up, turned around, and saw me. Without a word, he was at my side immediately. I must have looked like a wreck, because straight away he asked, "Bella, what's wrong?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. It's done. I have to go and get my court appointed lawyer now."

"What'd the officer say?"

"He just took my statement and said I'd be referred to a lawyer. Have – have you got in contact with yours?" I asked, nodding to his phone.

He nodded. "A meeting's scheduled for tomorrow at two. What else happened in there, Bella?"

"Nothing else," I said.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No. Just…I'll be right back."

I had to get away and breathe some fresh air, just for a little while. After going to the receptionist and getting the contact details of my lawyer I didn't head back to Jasper and Garrett. Instead, I went outside, and sat on the steps in front of the station. I forced myself to take some long, deep breaths, steadying myself. I needed to be grounded. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but I had to walk it anyway.

I was sitting out there for a couple of minutes when I felt someone sit down beside me. Whoever it is didn't touch me, though, but the voice was comforting.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jasper asked.

I shook my head. "No."

"You don't have to be brave all of the time," he said. "You can talk to me."

"I'm not," I claimed. "I just…it's done. Can we just get out of here? I can call the lawyer from home."

"You can come back to Garrett's place with me, if you want to."

I shook my head again. "I better get home. I have to fill Angela in." Jasper nodded, although I could see that he had some reservations about this. I did too. "You can come to my place though, if you want to."

"Would you really want me there?"

"I don't want to be alone."

Jasper paused, as if this shocked him. To be honest, it shocked me too. I was so used to running away from him. It felt strange to be asking to be closer to him. It was also rather tragic that it took an assault and an arrest to make it happen.

"You'll have Angela," he said.

"You know that's not what I mean," I said.

Jasper looked into my eyes and I looked into his. Hundreds of questions were written across his face. I felt like asking myself a hundred questions, too. But we would have plenty of time to do that later.

"We have some things to talk about," he said quietly.

Of course we did. We had a lot to talk about; about the past, about the court case, about his family, about what we were and what we were doing. I knew that. I just didn't know whether I could open that box just then. It would be like opening Pandora's Box, and in the current situation, I already felt like I had too much on my plate.

"We have a lot to talk about. But we also have a lot to deal with first."

"Carlisle could be on his way down right now," Jasper said suddenly.

I swallowed hard. The thought petrified me. "If you need to be at your house to see him –"

"No," Jasper interrupted. "I don't. I'm not interested in what he has to say."

"What if he gets angry about not being able to find you?"

"All the better."

I nodded. I didn't know what else I could do. I had to deal with the fact that Carlisle and the rest of the Cullen family was in Jasper's life. But I still didn't like to think about it. They were the people who could hurt me the most. They were the people who could hurt _us _the most. The less I saw them, the happier I was.

We stood up eventually and walked over to Garrett, who was waiting at the bottom of the steps. I offered him a place to crash for the night, but he declined, saying that he had to sort out some things for work. He said Jasper was excused from work for as long as he needed, but Jasper promised that he would be there. We dropped Garrett off at his place with the promise that we would see him tomorrow.

#

Angela wasn't home when we arrived. I guessed that she was still at work, and when I called her phone, it went to an answer message, so I left her a message telling her what had happened and that we were at home. It was all I could really do.

When I hung up Jasper was lingering around in the living room, scratching the back of his head. "You know, I've never been to your place before."

"Is it what you expected?"

"I didn't have any expectations. But it's nice."

"You can take a seat," I said. "Would you like something to eat or drink?"

Jasper shook his head. He didn't sit, either. He just looked at me. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked eventually.

Did I want to talk about it? Talk about _what_? There wasn't anything to talk about. He knew everything that had happened. Now we just had to wait.

"I think I'm going to call my lawyer and set up a meeting," I said, avoiding the question.

"That's not an answer, Bella."

I looked at him and shrugged. "There's nothing to talk about."

"I'm worried about you," he said.

"Everyone's worried about me. People never _stop _worrying about me. But you don't need to. I'm perfectly capable of coping with it on my own."

"I know that."

"Then don't treat me like a child," I said, a little too harshly. "I don't want to talk about it."

Jasper looked at me for a moment, as if he couldn't get his point across right. "I would never think that I know what's best for you. I just…don't want you to shut it all up inside."

"_Nothing_ is wrong," I repeated. "Now, I have to call my lawyer."

Jasper looked at me for a long moment, trying to read me and trying to understand what was going on. Eventually, he accepted this with a nod. "Who did you get?"

I pulled the slip of paper out of my pocket and read the name aloud. "Maria Rodriquez."

"She's my lawyer, too," Jasper said.

"We can coordinate then," I noted as I walked over to the phone, dialing her number.

Maria was nice enough, and we decided to extend Jasper's meeting the next day so as to include the both of us. She said because our cases were so interlinked, it made sense.

When I hung up Jasper looked at me curiously, clearly wondering what she had said. I explained the plan to him, which he seemed to be happy with.

"That sounds good," he agreed. "But…there are probably some things we should sort out before we talk to the lawyer tomorrow."

I suddenly felt very nervous. "What things?"

"We've got to talk about…_us_. What's going on here?"

"We don't have to do this now," I said.

"It might be good to get at least one thing cleared up before we face everything else. It's not just simple anymore. Not after…"

He didn't have to finish that sentence. I knew what it meant. _Not after that weekend. Not after the fight at the bar. Not after me searching desperately for money to bail him out with. Not after the sex that day. Not after everything that was happening around us._ We both knew that our relationship was a hell of a lot more complicated than what we had wanted it to be, or what we had planned it to be.

The thought of confronting anything frightened me, but I forced myself to swallow back my fears and try to contribute to the conversation.

"Can _you_ define _it_ – _us?_ I don't think I can."

"Are we still just sleeping together?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly. The question had me startled and I looked up to him, searching for the words but not properly finding them. That was the key question though, wasn't it? That was what we were dancing around in circles over, trying to avoid. Were we ever really _just_ sleeping together? And if we weren't, what did that mean?

I didn't want to say yes, because after the events of those last few hours, I knew that the last thing that I wanted was to _lose_ Jasper. But I also knew that there was a hell of a lot of stuff that was _bad _about the idea of us being together, and that it would be a long road to actually making it work.

"Were we ever?" I asked cautiously.

I bit my lip, cursing the words as they came. Jasper wouldn't stop watching me, trying to work it all out. Just before he spoke, he looked to his feet. When he looked back up at me, the emotions in his eyes made my heart ache. It was hard, because in so many respects, we were wrong for each other.

"I don't think I was," he admitted.

The admission caused me to gasp. Gooseflesh rose across my body. We were finally actually making sense. We worked when we were actually forced to _communicate_. Who knew?

"I tried to be," I said. "I don't think it ever really worked, though."

"So is that it, then? Are we…girlfriend and boyfriend?" Jasper frowned at the words, as if they tasted wrong on his tongue. I didn't like the sound of them either.

"It doesn't sound right," I said. "It doesn't…"

"Cover it?" he guessed.

"Yeah. It means nothing to me."

Jasper nodded. "It's far more complicated than that."

I agreed and fell silent for a few moments. This was the question which neither of us knew the answer to. What _were _we?

"So let's just not define it," I volunteered eventually. "Let's just…not put a label on our relationship. We just…_are_. Because nothing really covers it and I don't think we can really…explain it."

We both knew that we had moved on from being fuck buddies a while ago. Our relationship had become more than that rather quickly, because we had an emotional connection, and past demons, and so many things that tied us together in a very complicated knot. We both knew this. We had just never voiced the fact. That day and the way almost losing Jasper made me feel only solidified the fact that there wasn't just _sex_ between us.

"We just…_are_," Jasper repeated.

"Or, if you have any other ideas…"

Jasper shook his head. "No, I don't."

"Okay," I nodded.

Jasper frowned and scratched the back of his head. "So…uh…what do people do when they just…_are_?"

I didn't know how to answer that, because I didn't have a clue. I looked blank for a moment. I hated this tension between us, and the coldness I felt inside, as if I had been gutted.

Instead of speaking, I walked over to Jasper, and he seemed to understand what I was doing. Without speaking, he accepted me into his arms. We didn't kiss or anything like that – this was just a hug, in the most innocent sense of the word. But it made me feel better. Jasper's arms were strong and hot and I leant against his chest and he leant his chin on the top of my head and I felt _happy._ I felt warm and safe and as if we weren't facing lawyers and courts and police and Carlisle and the rest of the Cullen family. I just felt safe. And I hadn't really felt properly safe for years – at least since Charlie died. Jasper made me feel safe, and as if nothing could hurt me. I really needed that.

Angela got home later that night and we explained everything to her. She wanted to do anything she could to help and we decided that she should come and meet the lawyer with us, too. Jasper didn't sleep on the sofa that night, either. Instead, he slept with me, in my bed. We didn't do anything. We just slept in each other's arms. But it felt right, because I knew that I wouldn't run away in the morning and he knew that there was some sort of certainty in it. We could protect each other. Neither of us was taking but not giving back anymore. We just…_were_. And laying my head on his chest, drifting into sleep, I was more settled than I had been in a long time. Being wrapped up in him was like having a shield which kept the nightmares away.

#

When we woke up the next morning I didn't want to get out of bed. It was too warm, as if we were hidden in our own little bubble. I was frightened that if we opened the door, we would have to face an onslaught.

"Sleep well?" Jasper asked; his voice still crusted with sleep.

"Better than I thought I would."

I rolled over onto my stomach and looked up at him. Jasper even managed to smile at me. "It wasn't weird?" he asked.

I frowned. "Why would it have been?"

"I slept with you. Well…without actually _sleeping_ with you."

"You mean we didn't have sex."

"Exactly."

I smiled at him. Was it strange that I liked the thought that we didn't have sex, yet we could still be close to each other? Even though it was a hell of a lot harder, actually _facing him_, it felt better, in a way.

"It wasn't weird," I told him.

Jasper nodded. "Ready to face the music today?"

"It's just a meeting with the lawyer. We _really _face the music in court," I said. Jasper nodded again, although I could tell that he was hiding something. I waited for him to speak, but he wouldn't. "Jasper, what's going on?" I asked after a few moments of silence.

"Nothing," he claimed.

"_Jasper_," I scolded. "We can't keep secrets now. Please tell me what's going on?"

Jasper threw his head back and stared at the ceiling, internally beating himself up. I tried to squeeze his hand and reassure him, but it didn't work very well. He still looked like he hated himself.

"I just…I can't promise that this won't get messy."

That didn't explain anything. "Messy how?"

"With my family. I…I can't promise that they won't find out. I can't…I can't promise that I can keep them away."

I understood immediately. "Carlisle has been calling, hasn't he?"

Jasper held up his phone. "Two dozen missed calls."

I nodded slowly. I knew that it was just something that I had to deal with. If I wanted to help Jasper get off the charges, I had to also face whatever or whoever was on his side as well. And I knew that his family came along with that. Even though I didn't want anything to do with them, I did want to help Jasper.

"Is he in Seattle now?"

"He would have gone home last night after not being able to find me. I'm not sure about today."

"You think he'll be at the lawyer's office, don't you?" I asked.

Jasper ran a hand over his face. "I don't want him to be."

"But you think he might."

Jasper winced, as if someone had touched him with a burning iron rod. "I have no idea what Carlisle will do. He's unpredictable. I just don't know…"

"You don't know what he knows," I completed his sentence.

"He always has a way of keeping you on edge."

"Eyes everywhere," I nodded, remembering what Jasper had said the day before. "It's the scariest part, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, frowning.

I looked over at the far wall, remembering. "It's the worst part – and not the fact that he can control your family, or can manipulate the people around you. It's the fact that he can control _you_. You don't know if what you're doing is playing right into the palm of his hand or not. His end-game. Even if you're fighting against him, you don't know."

Jasper tried to smile, but it faltered. "Are you always this perceptive?"

"I just know what it feels like," I said. "To…to feel like you're being controlled every second of the day."

A dark look went across Jasper's face and I realized my mistake immediately. Jasper didn't give me time to apologize for it though.

"With Edward, right?"

I nodded, but I didn't want to talk about Edward with Jasper. It didn't feel right, and I didn't want to hurt him.

"We should get ready," I said, sliding my feet off the bed.

"It's only seven," Jasper pointed out.

"I still have to go to work. I can't leave Lucy alone for another day."

"We still have a lot to talk about, Bella," Jasper said.

I stood up from the bed, pulled my hair back in a ponytail and grabbed a towel for the shower. "I'll have a shower and then you can have one. Help yourself to some breakfast or coffee in the meantime."

"Bella," Jasper repeated.

"Not now, Jasper," I insisted. "Please, just let us get through this meeting and figure out where we are. We'll have plenty of time to talk afterwards."

Jasper didn't reply and I left the room. An hour later Jasper, Angela and I headed off to work, and the next few hours dragged mercilessly leading up to the meeting with the lawyer.

* * *

><p><strong>Yet again, <strong>_**LithiumReaper **_**was amazing, worked her magic on this chapter, and has kept my head above water for the last few weeks. All of my thanks go out to her.**

**On another note, I made a twitter. Even though I haven't figured it all out yet, you are all welcome to follow me. My username is ****SeeThemFly****, but I'll link to it on my profile, as well. It'd be great to hear from you all!**

**So, what did you think of the chapter? Thank you for being such a wonderful bunch of readers. I cannot thank you enough.**


	14. Chapter 14

**I'm so sorry that this chapter is late, and that I didn't get review replies out last time. Life has been hectic lately. You are all so amazing though, and I was blown away by your responses.**

_**LithiumReaper**_** is my wonderful beta, yet again.**

**Demons is also being translated into French by **_**SandJR.**_** She's a wonderful person, and all my thanks go out to her.**

**Please excuse me if there are any inaccuracies with the lawyer and court information. I tried to do my research, but that can still always come up short. I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

><p><strong>Bella:<strong>

Work dragged on. The monotony of it got under my skin more than usual. It was slow, which felt so strange, considering how quickly things were moving in my personal life, whizzing past me like a bullet trains as I stumbled to keep up.

Lucy wasn't very happy with me either. I was on the receiving end of frequent glares for the entire day. During a mid-morning lull she cornered me in the backroom, completely infuriated. I wasn't ready for what she was about to say.

"You're dating him, _aren't you_?" she demanded, shutting the door behind her as I grabbed another bag of coffee from the cabinet.

"What are you talking about?"

"Jasper!" Lucy growled. "I saw you with him, outside the police station. You fucking lying bitch."

I was completely thrown aback by this declaration. I couldn't find any coherent sentences in my mixed-up mind.

"Lucy…"

"Oh, don't _Lucy_ me!" she shouted. "You're such a liar. All that shit you were saying about me having to _be careful _around Jasper and not get _too attached_. It was all shit! You just wanted him for yourself!"

"It's…it's not like that," I tried to explain.

"Oh, don't give me that shit! You're _such _a liar. You _knew_ that I liked him, but you still went after him. I _can't believe_ you would do that! You're _such_ a crap friend."

I would be lying if I said that hearing that didn't hurt. I felt guilty. Terribly guilty. But my situation with Jasper was not as simple as she thought it was.

"It's not like that," I repeated. "I knew Jasper before –"

"Oh my _gosh_!" Lucy screamed, interrupting my floundering. "That day that you were in my building, and I invited you in, and I told you about him – you had just _fucked him_, hadn't you! You knew him back then and you never said a _thing_! I even _asked you_ whether you liked him when he was working here and you said there was _nothing _there! You lying bitch."

That blew me away. Lucy certainly wasn't the innocent little puppy everyone thought she was. Her bark had _bite_.

"Lucy, it's complicated," I tried to say, wanting to calm the situation down and keep the peace. The last thing I wanted was to upset Lucy. She was a lovely girl.

"_Bullshit_! It's not bloody _complicated_! All you had to say was, 'Sorry, Lucy, but Jasper and I are together' and I _wouldn't_ have cared! But _no_, you couldn't do that. You have to start a relationship with him anyway without even a _breath_ of concern for how I felt about him!"

I was still completely shell-shocked by everything that was happening. She made my relationship with Jasper sound like something completely different than what it actually was, and yet, I still felt like shit for it.

"_Lucy_," I said, a little stronger then, "it's not like that. It's so much more complicated than that and –"

"Oh, save it, Bella!" Lucy snarled. "I don't want your fucking excuses. Screw you."

With that, she spun around on her heels and walked straight out of the room.

I didn't know what to do then. My feelings were a mixture of wanting to cry, wanting to scream, and wanting to punch something. I couldn't take any more emotional turmoil. Hurting Lucy like that felt absolutely terrible. The last thing I wanted was to hurt anyone. Yet I still managed to. Continuously. It felt like I could never do anything right.

The last few hours of work dragged on mercilessly. Lucy wouldn't talk to me at all. Once, she _accidentally_ spilt frothed milk down my uniform. The rest of the time, I was the receiver of glares and cold shoulders. It was a terrible environment to be in. When I could finally leave to head out to meet the lawyer, I was actually relieved, even if a little frightened of what I was leaving to face.

I met Jasper, Angela and Garrett outside the lawyer's office. Angela and Garrett were talking quietly together, off to one side. I must have looked like complete shit, because as soon as I got out of the taxi, Jasper walked straight over and without a word, hugged me. His arms were warm and I could feel his heart beating evenly in his chest. It was exactly what I needed. It didn't take words for him to understand that.

Eventually I pulled away and Jasper's hands dropped. The cold got me again, which felt terrible. I wanted to just crawl back into his arms and forget the world.

"Ready?" he asked.

"As ready as I ever will be," I nodded.

The next thing Jasper did was a surprise to me. I expected him to begin walking with me to the other two, but instead I felt his hand slip into mine and a slight tug on my arm. I looked up to Jasper, confused, and he leant down to kiss me. It was a soft kiss. Gentle. Loving, maybe. Not hungry or passionate or with any other connotations to it. It was coy and chaste, almost. It was delicate and comforting and considerate.

It was different from any of our other kisses. They were usually made in the heat of the moment, in secret, where no one else could see. But not this. This was out in a busy street, in front of our friends and the world. And I didn't want to break it.

Jasper's hand went to me cheek, cupping it lightly, his hands warm against my cold skin. One of my hands buried itself in his hair, not pulling him closer, but just holding him there. Jasper smiled when he felt it and kissed me some more. Playfully and almost unnoticeably. When his eyes fluttered open at the same time as mine, I smiled too.

"Thank you," I said when we pulled away.

"For what?"

I smiled and looked straight into his bright blue eyes. I felt my stomach churn with guilt after what Lucy had said, but my heart warmed because Jasper made me feel safe again. It was a dichotomy that I hated to face. Kissing him then made me feel like I was betraying a friend, but not being around him made me feel like I was out of place. It was a guilt trip if I ever faced one.

"I just needed it."

"Want to talk about it?" he offered.

I glanced over to Garrett and Angela, who were talking quietly together and watching us in the corner of their eyes. I shook my head at once.

"No."

"I'm here if you need to," Jasper said.

"Later," I replied.

Jasper nodded and slipped his hand into mine. When we walked up the stairs to the lawyer's office, towards our friends, we did it together. All the while, I felt torn, because I hated the thought that I had hurt Lucy, but happy, because that was how Jasper made me feel, and then guilty for feeling any of those things at all.

We were twenty minutes early for the appointment. Sitting in the waiting room, watching the time tick by, was torturous. Jasper was on the edge of his seat, his knees shaking, running hands through his hair. Garrett tried to give him a few reassuring words, but it didn't work. I felt the exact same way; like my nerves were crumbling me away.

When we were finally called into the lawyer's office Jasper jumped out of his seat and walked briskly towards it. Garrett, Angela and I exchanged worried glances as he walked wordlessly ahead of us. Although we were nervous, he was something else altogether.

Maria was a beautiful woman, with flowing black hair, dark brown eyes, and dark olive skin. She had a strangely musical voice and a small, delicate appearance.

"Afternoon," she greeted, standing up from behind her desk as we entered. Jasper and I approached her and shook her hand. "You must be Miss Swan."

"Bella," I said.

Maria nodded kindly. "And you must be Mister Whitlock."

"Jasper."

Maria smiled and looked towards Angela and Garrett. "Angela Weber," Angela introduced herself, stepping forward to shake Maria's hand. "One of the witnesses."

"Of course," Maria nodded, before turning to Garrett and shaking his hand.

"Garrett Jones. Another witness," Garrett said kindly.

"Hi," Maria grinned. "Please do take a seat, everyone."

"So," Jasper said. "Is there any news on what's happening?"

Maria smiled lightly and nodded. "I have talked to the opposing counsel. Both of your cases are very interlinked so I think it is best to predominantly discuss this together. The outcomes very much rely on each other. It is good, in this way, that I have both of you then."

"What did the counsel say?" I asked. Clearly there was something that she wasn't telling us. As soon as I asked it, her smile faded and she looked down to the paper in front of her. Something was terribly wrong.

"They have offered to cut a deal," Maria said carefully.

Even Garrett and Angela looked taken aback by this announcement. "What sort of a deal?" Jasper asked.

Maria was silent for a moment, pondering how to phrase it. Clearly, it was something that could cause strife. I couldn't say that I was exactly surprised about it when she revealed what it was. It was the most predictable route for Bret to take.

"Mister Sanderson – er, Bret – will be willing to drop the charges on Jasper, if you drop your assault charges on him, too, Bella."

It almost felt like a chill had settled over the room. Jasper's hands crunched into fists, his knuckles turning white. He looked like a flame had engulfed inside of him, burning him from the inside out. Anger. That's what he felt.

I didn't know what to think. Part of me would have taken it in a heartbeat. Part of me would say yes, just to get Jasper off. That part of me just wanted it over.

But the other part of me was angry. Furious. I felt like fire was coursing through my veins. It wasn't fair. It was unjust. It was disgusting. How could I let Bret get off a real charge by using a pathetic, fake excuse? How could I knowingly drop my charges on him and let him go free, and possibly hurt someone else, and this time _really_ hurt them? How could I live with myself and let that happen?

Immediately, I was reminded of Carlisle. He twisted and meddled with everything and managed to slip through the cracks so as to not get hurt himself. He could turn other people against you and dodge the bullet and manipulate everything. He got away with it. He got away with everything he did. Carlisle got away with the drugs and Jacob and Embry and everything else. And it wasn't _fair_. How could I stand by and let another person manipulate and play the system and get away with something else? Hadn't I learnt my lesson? Hadn't I learnt that sometimes there was a time to risk it all and fight for what you think is right?

Bret was like Carlisle reincarnated in my mind, and I wanted to see him burn for what he did. I was sick of people playing games and getting away with it.

What was holding me back was Jasper. What if I refused the deal, and he went down for it? What if we lost? Jasper had gotten in trouble when defending _me_. How could I hang him out to dry like that?

"But…" I said weakly, my eyes on the floor, trying to find the right words, "if we cut…if we cut a deal, he walks free. And he could do it again, and worse, to someone else."

I felt like I was about to cry. That was when I felt a hand settle over mine. Jasper. His fingers curled in with mine and he squeezed it in support. He was telling me that he was there. Always there.

"Yes," Maria nodded. "If we cut a deal and drop the charges, he will go free."

_Free_. It wasn't fair. Carlisle went free, whilst so many others lost their own freedom. How could I let that happen again?

"Bella," Jasper said then, his voice soft. "Bella, I don't want you to take the deal just for me."

I looked up to him then. His electric blue eyes latched onto mine. I could see the understanding in them. He knew what I was thinking. He was thinking it to. We both understood what this meant.

"But what about you…" I whispered.

Jasper shook his head, his jaw stiff. "I don't care. I don't care about what happens to me. I only…I can't stand the thought of it, either. Someone else getting away."

I bit my bottom lip and nodded. It took me a few moments to control myself to look up at Maria. "What's the likelihood that Jasper will win his case?"

Maria shook her head apologetically. "I wouldn't know, Bella. I wouldn't be able to predict that."

"Just what is your opinion?" I insisted. "A roundabout guess? Does he have a shot?"

"The way I see it," Maria said, "is that you have a very good case. With the bruises, the witness statements and the evidence on hand, it would be hard for Bret to be found innocent. Laying charges on Jasper is an attempt to divert away from this. Jasper defended you, which was permissible. But…there are some grey areas…"

"Grey areas?" I repeated.

"Jasper's blood alcohol level was above the legal limit. Your relationship could also be brought into question – perhaps they will take the route of a jealous boyfriend. Also, Jasper's past history could be brought forward."

Jasper sat up then, thoroughly confused. "But my record was sealed when I turned eighteen. Surely a three misdemeanor charges of tagging, cannabis possession and underage drinking when you're a teenager can't be brought into an adult case. I did my community service, went to drug diversion classes and I paid the fines. It was years ago."

"The key here is that they will want to question your character, Jasper. Those charges will do that."

"I was sixteen!" Jasper insisted.

"And that is what we will argue," Maria agreed. "You are an independent adult with a steady job, home and income. No adult record. And if we win Bella's case, you are that much closer to being proven innocent. I am only stating all possible angles here. The truth is that we may not even go to trial."

"Why is that?" I asked.

"I will have preliminary hearings with the judge and prosecution. We have a number of viable options to go with here. The first is a plea bargain, for Jasper."

"I'm not pleading guilty," Jasper growled.

"I could argue for a plea bargain, which would give you a lesser charge. Perhaps you would only be required to pay a fine or do community service. It is an option."

"I'm not guilty," Jasper insisted.

Maria nodded once. "Of course, I could also argue defense. This rests a lot on Bella's case. In the preliminary hearings I can put forward the argument of defense. It is the burden of the prosecution to prove intent. That is that when you approached Bret, you intended to hurt him. Through your statement and statements of witnesses, this is not the case. Your intent was to protect Bella. This is what we can argue. What the prosecution may argue is that your defense was _excessive_."

"What does that mean?" Jasper asked.

"This involves questioning whether what you did to stop Bret from hurting Bella was excessive in the way that you injured him too much. I have a copy of the doctor's report here. Bret sustained a broken nose and two chipped teeth. Your statement says that you punched him four times. They may argue that this was an excessive means to an end. There is a lot of grey area in your trial – more so than Bella's."

"Could Bret take a plea bargain with the charges on him?" I asked.

"Yes," Maria answered. "If that is the case, we will be unlikely to go to trial for Jasper's case. A judge may dismiss it."

"So what does this all mean?" Jasper asked. "Could you maybe summarize it for us?"

Maria nodded kindly and took a deep breath. "I have strong hopes for Bella's case. Jasper's case is very dependent on this. I will have hearings with the judge and prosecution to outline whether it is able to be put to trial. Our best outcome is that the judge dismisses it. Our worst is that we go to trial, and from there we argue defense and try to counter argue the prosecution's points of excessive means, and questioning Jasper's character. Moving on from here, we must make a decision on the deal that has been offered. If it is declined, I will meet with the judge and prosecution next week to discuss where to go from here. Jasper, I take it that you refuse to make a plea bargain?"

"Yes," Jasper nodded.

"And the agreement which has been offered, about dropping the charges – our response is what?"

Jasper and I looked at each other briefly. He knew that I didn't want to hurt him, and that I wanted the charges on him gone. But he also knew that I couldn't let Bret walk free. I knew that he couldn't let Bret walk free, either. We had both had enough of people walking all over us and slipping through the cracks. We wouldn't be manipulated again.

"I'm not dropping my charges," I answered sternly.

Maria nodded, and for the next half hour we discussed the case further. We retold our stories of the night and heard Garrett and Angela's takes on it. Maria then outlined the next moves we would take to go forward. She would meet with the judge and prosecution the next week and then contact us on the progress and organize our next meeting. After the appointment, we all left the office, feeling a little overwhelmed.

When we walked outside Jasper pulled me to the side as Garrett and Angela headed into the bathroom.

"Bella," he said.

I looked up to him and tried to smile. "Yeah?"

"Don't feel bad about this, okay?"

Easy to say; hard to do. "I won't," I tried to promise.

"I can see it in your eyes," Jasper said. "Don't feel bad about keeping the charges against Bret. He deserves to reap the consequences of what he did to you."

"I know," I agreed. "I know he does. I just…I don't want you to suffer for my mistakes. It's not fair. Just because I wasn't strong enough to stand up for myself, you get all of this."

I despised myself for it. I couldn't help but look to the floor in shame. Jasper hated this and dragged my eyes back up to meet his.

"You did stand up for yourself," he said. "You fought and you said no and you refused him. _None _of this is your fault. Please don't think that you are at all to blame."

"I acted idiotically."

"_Nothing_ gives _anyone_ the excuse to treat someone how Bret treated you," Jasper insisted. "Please, tell me you believe that."

"I do," I said.

Jasper looked at me carefully. "But you're still beating yourself up about it."

"Because you're in trouble because of it, and that's my fault."

"No. It's _Bret's_ fault," Jasper insisted.

I felt like crying again. That made me feel even more pathetic. Not only had I screwed everything up, but I didn't have the backbone to stand up and actually fix it. I just felt too _broken_; broken and dirty and like someone had torn my skin away from my bones. I felt bare and vulnerable and awful.

I didn't need to verbalize these feelings. Jasper could see it in my expression, despite the fact that I was looking down at the floor, my shoulders slumped, trying to stop myself from crumbling over completely. Soon, I felt Jasper's arms wrap around me, and I was surrounded in his warmth and fire. I accepted it gratefully, curling myself into him and never wanting to let go, surrounded in a smell which was uniquely Jasper; paint and lemons and freshly cut grass and wood and man. This was one of the things that were different about Edward and Jasper. With Edward, he could never tell what I was thinking and never took the time to understand. Jasper always knew what I was feeling, and responded to it without even having to breathe a word. Jasper was fire whereas Edward was ice. I needed some warmth in my life. I needed warmth after living in Forks, being sucked back up to Seattle, and feeling so cold and empty after Jacob and my father and my own weakness and then Bret. I just needed Jasper's heat and acceptance. Despite all of my flaws and fuck ups, he accepted me. I only wished that I could give him back the same gift, and felt like I never could.

I could have stayed wrapped in Jasper's arms for hours. _Could have_, but didn't, because mere seconds passed before a voice I had never wanted to hear again – a voice which haunted my dreams and sent chills coursing through my body and sucked away all the heat and happiness and vitality still left in me away – rang out beside us.

"Well, isn't this a new, _fascinating_ development."

Jasper and I pulled away. Jasper had become just as rigid and cold as I had. I turned to face him, and there he was, with his ice blue eyes glaring at me, his icy blonde hair smoothed back with piles of grease and his deathly pale skin. He was striking, he was frightening, and I was stuck between wanting to punch him in the nose and cower in the corner.

"Carlisle." The name fell from Jasper's lips like venom. A fire sparked in Jasper's eyes. Hatred burned, like flame on fuel. "What the hell are you doing here?"

:::

**Jasper:**

Bella looked so broken. That was the only way to put it. From when she first arrived, to when she was talking to the lawyer and realizing how similar Bret was to Carlisle, to when we got outside. Bella was just _broken_. The events over the last couple of days were tearing her apart. I wanted to do nothing but help fix her and protect her from any further harm. She needed time to rebuild, and that's something she wasn't getting. She wasn't the girl who bit back at me and kissed me hard and was lost in her own world. She was just _broken_, and cold as ice, and heatless. I wanted to help her get back to the Bella she was.

When Carlisle turned up, I knew that it would be harder than ever to accomplish.

"Carlisle," I hissed. The name felt dirty. I had an insatiable need to run up to him, drag him out the door, and scream in his face. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Carlisle glanced down at Bella condescendingly, as if expecting me to excuse myself and get her to leave. As if I was going to do that. I response, I held her tighter and glared at him.

"I'm here for your meeting with your lawyer, of course," he said evenly before looking towards Bella. "Miss Swan, it's nice to see you again. It's a pity about the circumstances, and how you have been troubling my son, though."

Bella looked to the ground. I wanted to snap Carlisle's neck.

"Leave," I growled at him. "The meeting's over, and you wouldn't be coming even if it wasn't. I'm an adult, and this is none of your business."

Off to the side, I heard the bathroom doors open. Angela and Garrett came to stand beside us.

"Rent a crowd, is it?" Carlisle quipped at me.

"Leave," I reiterated. "We don't want you here."

"You don't have a choice," Carlisle insisted. "Now please, Jasper, step outside with me. We have some things to discuss."

"No."

Carlisle looked furious, but he had to keep his head cool, or else risk damaging his reputation. "Jasper, _now_," he insisted.

I was about to make a remark when someone else bet me to it. Bella. And I loved every word of what she said.

"Jasper said _no_, Carlisle. No doesn't mean that he can be convinced if you continue to badger him, nor is it a weak-willed answer that can be changed, especially by _you_. Move on, or we'll call security."

Carlisle narrowed his eyes. I wanted to kiss Bella and shout in encouragement. What he said next stopped me though.

"This is none of your concern, Miss Swan. I ask that you refrain from speaking to me in such a manner."

Fucking twat.

"Actually," I said, "it is Bella's concern. As my girlfriend, she has a lot of say. And I ask _you_ to kindly back off. You have no say in these proceedings or in my life. We're leaving. I ask that you do the same."

I grabbed Bella's hand and stepped forwards, trusting that the others would be behind me, and that we would be a united front. I didn't look back as I brushed past Carlisle. If he thought that he was going to get involved in Bella's life again, he had another thing coming.

"It really is a shame, Jasper," Carlisle said as I walked past him. "Your mother and sister would be so disgraced in how you have acted lately. I suppose I have no choice but to tell them how far you have fallen again. Best it be before the baby comes, too. That way you won't have time to get attached."

I froze, steps in front of him, anger coursing through my veins. I didn't have time to react before Carlisle smacked me on the back and departed before us.

"Jasper –" Bella started to say.

That was it, wasn't it? That was what he was always holding over me. My fucking _family_. That was what he had control over, and what made me keep going back. It was about time that I stopped letting Carlisle fuck everything up for me.

I had to regain some of that control. At least for Bella, if I was ever going to stay with her. And even though my mother was too far gone, I could still get to Rosalie.

"We have to get back," I said immediately.

"Jasper," Bella said again.

"Come stay at Garrett's place tonight?" I asked. I didn't know why I did. It just came out. Being apart from Bella seemed like the most terrifying thing in the world at that moment.

Bella nodded once. "Of course."

With a few more words, we were in a cab, and after dropping Angela off and picking up some of Bella's things, on our way home.

:::

Back at Garrett's place I still didn't want to let go of Bella's hand. Garrett and Bella stayed in the living room whilst I headed into Garrett's bedroom to call Rosalie. Bella didn't say a word to me. She already knew what I was doing. There was some sort of strange, unspoken understanding between us. She always knew what I was feeling. So she also knew that all I needed was a soft kiss and an encouraging nod.

Rosalie answered on the fifth ring. It felt so good to hear her voice again. Every time I did, it was a reassurance that she was safe. Even though I had seen her in the weekend, it felt like I hadn't spoken to her in years. She sounded brighter, too. Having Emmett home lifted her spirits.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Rosie."

"_Jay!_" Rosalie squealed. I couldn't help but smile. Knowing she was happy calmed me. "It's so good to hear from you! How are you?"

"Fine, Rosie. How's the baby?"

"Great," Rosalie said. "Kicking away."

"That's awesome."

There was a pause. Rosalie knew something was wrong immediately. "Jay, what's going on? Are you okay?"

It took me a while to gather the right words. I didn't want to trouble Rosalie with this, but I knew I had to. She had to know the truth.

"I have something to tell you, Rosie. And it won't be easy to hear."

There was a pause on Rosalie's end. I could imagine her sitting down slowly, preparing herself. "What's going on?"

I took a deep breath, and I let it all out. I told her the entire story. I told her how I had met Bella again on New Years, and how we had slept together, and what had happened at the club and with the police and how Bella and I were officially together and what was going on with Carlisle and how he was trying to use her and mom to garner control of me with the lawyers and the court case and how I had to tell her so that she knew what was going on and so that she could hear it from me and couldn't be twisted and manipulated by Carlisle anymore because I couldn't _lose her_.

When I was done, Rosalie was deathly quiet. I could hear her shallow breathing on the other line, but that was it. I surely hoped that I hadn't lost her.

"Rosie…" I prodded. "Rosie, are you there?"

"I'm…here," she said.

I nodded awkwardly. "Do you…have anything to say?"

"That's a lot to take in, Jay."

I felt terribly guilty for it. "I know. I'm sorry."

"I can't believe Carlisle would do that," she breathed.

"Really?"

"It's just…he's Emmett's father. It's…"

She didn't need to finish her sentence. I knew that it was hard for her. She had to put up with him. "I just wanted you to know. I can't lose you, Rosie."

I could imagine her smiling. I wanted to see her smile. She was my best friend and my sister. We needed each other to keep the other sane. "You won't lose me, Jay."

"Do you have anything to say about it?"

"I know that what you did was in protection of Bella, and I know that Bella is a nice girl who has had a tough hand in life, what with Charlie and the entire situation with him and Carlisle and everything that happened with Edward and Charlie dying. I know the truth. You don't have a thing to worry about."

Back in high school, when everything with Carlisle and Charlie was playing out, Rosalie and Emmett and Edward and Alice had stuck by Carlisle's side. I never properly understood it. Charlie and Bella were ostracized for something that they were right about. But slowly I came to figure it out why they stuck around. Family. That was what it was all about. Family. Family stuck together, no matter what. And I wasn't the only person Carlisle knew how to control back then.

Edward was a father's pet. My mother was weak-willed and felt like she owed him for keeping our heads above water when she was struggling so much after my father's death. Emmett was all about family; something that had been ingrained into him when his mother died of cancer when they were young. Alice was her father's princess, naïve to what else was out there, shut in a world that Carlisle created for her, almost like her own personal snow globe. And Rosalie…Rosalie was the worst. Carlisle replaced the father figure she had lost when my father died, which was something that she desperately wanted and needed. Carlisle had Emmett, who she loved with all of her heart. Carlisle had a family like one that she desperately wanted, because as much as mom and I were her family, we were broken after my father's death. I was off the rails and my mother was floating aimlessly, giving up. Rosalie was the only constant thing in our lives. She was the only strong one, the one who had to hold us together, keep my mother going and calm me down. Carlisle's family took that pressure off her. She didn't have to grow up so fast.

So they had stuck by him. They didn't know Charlie like I did. They most certainly didn't know the cruel side of Carlisle – the dark one he liked to hide under a façade of false pretenses and gifts – like I did. They didn't see it, and if they did, they pushed it away from their minds. So Rosalie hearing this from me, understanding it, and accepting it, was a big thing. It was something I was scared to risk because of just how much she felt like she _owed_ him. But I had to tell her the truth. I was just as bad as Carlisle in some ways. We both kept her in the dark.

"I'm sorry, Rosie," I said. "I just had to tell you the truth."

"I know," Rosalie said. "You did the right thing. Is there anything Emmett and I can do? Do you need any help?"

"No," I swore. "Just look after yourself and that baby. My lawyer thinks I have a pretty good shot at getting off. I'll keep you updated though."

"Come up and see me this weekend," she said. "I feel like we need to talk about this more."

"Okay," I agreed.

"And bring Bella."

That threw me a little bit. "Why?"

"I need to meet any girl who means that much to my brother. I haven't seen her in five years. You're with her, so I want to get to know her. That is as long as she is comfortable with it."

"I'll ask her," I nodded.

"Thanks for telling me, Jay."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

Once I hung up from Rosalie I took a few moments to gather my thoughts before dialing the next number. Charlotte answered on the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

"Char, it's me."

There was a pause of disbelief and then a shout. "Jasper! Oh my gosh, it's you! Where are you? Are you okay? We've been so worried!"

"I'm okay, Char," I said. I didn't want to tell them about the court case. Not yet, anyway. But I needed to touch bases with them and let them know I was still breathing. "I'm staying at a friend's house."

"Are you coming home soon?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I have some things I need to sort out."

"You can sort them out here," Charlotte offered.

"I really can't, Char. I'm sorry. I just…I'll keep in touch, okay? I just needed to let you know that I'm safe. Give Peter my best, will you?"

"Sure," Charlotte said. "And…Jasper?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For the way I acted. It was a bitch of a thing to do. I…I shouldn't butt into your life like that. I have no right. And I'm sorry. I should never have said those things to you. I'm so sorry. I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," I assured her. "You'd have to try pretty hard to do that."

I could imagine her smiling, which helped. Charlotte may have had a lot of opinions and an unruly tongue, but she was a good friend who had done so much for me over the years.

"Don't be a stranger, now," she said.

"I'll keep in touch," I promised before hanging up.

Bella was very quiet that night. I decided on asking her about heading up to Forks the next day. She didn't need any more emotional stress. For the moment, I left her alone with her thoughts, and she seemed to want that. Despite the fact that I still felt like we were being attacked from all sides, wrapped in Bella's arms that night on Garrett's fold down couch, we were safe for a little while.

:::

**Bella:**

I first noticed it when Carlisle was in the lawyer's office with us. When Jasper went to walk away, walking ahead of us, Carlisle wasn't watching him. His eyes were on Garrett, honed in and critical, waiting for Garrett to look at him. But Garrett wouldn't. Carlisle looked furious at that, and on the cab ride home, Garrett didn't say a word.

When Jasper went into the other room to call Rosalie, I noticed it again. Only this time, it was with a phone call. As soon as Garrett saw the caller ID he excused himself to the bathroom. But even in there, I could hear parts of the conversation. Snippets, but it was enough. Things like, "I am doing it" and "It's under control" and "Yes, sir" and "I'll keep you updated" and "It has just been busy" and "I have my eye on him, okay?" It wasn't hard to piece together.

Garrett was the one who was watching Jasper. Or at least he was one of them. Carlisle clearly knew him, just by the way he looked at him. It made sense, too. Jasper worked with Garrett. Who better to get a look into Jasper's life? Of course, I didn't doubt that Garrett wasn't the only one, but he had to be one.

It hurt to think about it. Garrett was such a good guy. Or at least I thought he was. I didn't know what to do. Telling Jasper seemed necessary, but too risky at this point. So I decided to wait, and get more proof. Getting more proof involved talking to Garrett the next morning.

Jasper was in the shower when I approached Garrett, who was in the kitchen, texting someone and looking rather haggard. I popped on the coffee machine, watching him. Garrett had large bags under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept for weeks. I wondered what was wrong.

"Garrett," I said quietly.

Garrett looked up, typing out the last few numbers before sending the text. "Yeah?" he asked distantly, turning around to get a mug out of the cabinet.

I took a deep breath and said it, like ripping off a band aid. "Garrett, what's going on with you and Carlisle?"

Garrett's reaction was completely unexpected. He dropped the mug, which shattered on the counter and scattered over the floor.

Garrett bent down and began furiously picking up the pieces of ceramic. He did this took fast, because after swiping at a particularly sharp piece, blood started to seep from a wound on his finger.

"_Fuck_!" he swore.

I bent down with a hand towel and grabbed his hand, stopping the blood flow. It was a nasty gash. Garrett seemed to shrink away from my touch, which was understandable, after the question I had just asked.

Garrett stayed quiet as we continued to pick up the pieces of the mug. I watched him carefully. He looked lost. Lost and frightened and broken, almost like a little boy.

"Garrett," I said again, "what's going on with you and Carlisle?"

Garrett looked up to me. He seemed almost about to cry. He was clearly torn apart by this.

"I'm sorry," was all he could manage. "I'm…I'm sorry."

"Sorry about what, Garrett?" I asked softly, trying to understand. Trying to understand how someone could do what I suspected him of doing to a friend. It didn't make any sense. It was repulsive.

"I'm…I'm sorry. I…I didn't have a choice," he managed to choke out.

I didn't have a chance to reply to that. The hallway door was thrown open to reveal Jasper standing there in a towel, his cell phone grasped in his hand. He looked absolutely distraught, too, as if his entire world was falling apart. He didn't even notice the broken bits of the mug on the floor.

"Jasper," I breathed, "what's wrong?"

Jasper took a deep breath, as if he was about to cry or scream or punch something or all three.

"It's Rosalie," he said.

"What's happened?"

"She has gone into labor," he explained. "She's in the hospital. They're treating her. Stopping it."

That couldn't be right. It couldn't. Jasper had told me about her being pregnant the night before, at my apartment. Her going into labor just couldn't be right. It was too early.

"But…she's only just over seven months along," I said.

Jasper nodded, tears springing to his eyes. "I need to go up there. Now."

* * *

><p><strong>Thoughts?<strong>


	15. Chapter 15

**I'm so, so, **_**so**_** sorry for the late update. I know it's shit. All I can say is that university got in the way. I'm sorry! I don't expect you to forgive me.**

_**LithiumReaper**_** is my magnificent beta. Praise her.**

**I don't know much about hospitals/medical treatment in general, so please bare with me for the next few chapters.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Jasper:<strong>_

I didn't give Bella and Garrett time to respond. Honestly, I didn't care to. I didn't expect Bella to come with me, after what my family put her through. But _I_ just had to get up there. Get to Rosalie. Get to the baby. Make sure they were okay, before something even worse happened.

I raced around, throwing my things into a duffel bag, yanking on the closest clothes I could find. I'm pretty sure that I pulled on one of Garrett's t-shirts, but he didn't say anything. I didn't care, either.

I was in the bathroom when Bella walked over evenly, quietly leaning against the doorframe.

"Jasper," she said.

I turned to her. Only then did I realize that there were tears stinging my eyes. I could barely make her out through the blurry water.

Bella pushed off the doorframe and walked towards me. "Jasper," she repeated. "Slow down."

I shook my head and wiped my tears on my fist. I wasn't meant to cry. Not _cry_. That was the ultimate proof that I had fucked this entire thing up. I was crumbling when Rosalie and Bella needed me the most.

"I've got to get moving," I said, shaking my head and shoving my toothbrush into the bag. "She…she needs me."

"She also needs you to be okay, and _stable_. Take a minute to get yourself together."

"She's hurt. I have to go," I insisted.

Bella placed her hands on my shoulders and held me back. She may have been small, but she had a vice grip and more muscle than I gave her credit for.

"Take a minute," she repeated. "If you drive like this, _you _could get hurt."

"I don't care," I deadpanned.

"I _do_," Bella insisted. She led me over to toilet and pushed down the lid so I could take a seat. When I sat down, I realized how much I was shaking. My hands were clammy and cold. My breathing was shallow. My heart was pounding in my chest. I was having a panic attack.

"You've got to _breathe_, Jasper," Bella said calmly. "Open your lungs. Take deep breaths. You're going to make yourself faint."

I looked at Bella for a moment, but her resolve didn't falter, so I started forcing air into my stressed lungs. Slowly, my pace started to slow and my heart started to calm down. I felt awful, like this, having to be taken care of like a child. I probably looked like a mess. My cheeks felt like they were on fire. All in all, I was utterly broken.

"Feel any better? Less light-headed?" she asked after a few minutes.

"Yeah," I nodded. "Thanks."

Bella nodded once and stood up. "So what time are we leaving?"

The question made me frown. It didn't make any sense. "_We_?"

"I'm coming up with you. If you think I'm going to let you operate a motor vehicle in your state, you've got another thing coming."

"But…" I said, "it's Forks. My family. You…you don't want to get involved in that."

"I know what I want to do, and that is support you. Facing them alone... I couldn't let you do it. I'll…stay in the motel room while you see them. But I want to be up there to support you, too. Just in case _you _need it."

I laughed lightly at the thought. "And here I was thinking that it was meant to be _me_ protecting _you_ from them."

"I don't need protection, and neither do you. But support…I think we could both use a little bit of that right about now."

I smiled, looking right into her chocolate brown eyes. Her long lashes brushed against her cheeks as she blinked and her red lips were formed in a little smile. Suddenly, I was less distraught, and more thankful. Warm, even.

"I need to get up there," I said then. "I need…"

"I know," Bella nodded. "We'll go now. Stop off at my place on the way. Give me five minutes to pack a bag there, and then we can go."

I nodded slowly. Five minutes. I could do five minutes. _Surely_, I could do five minutes.

After a few more minutes my bag was packed. Bella and I headed into the kitchen. Garrett was in there when we arrived, leant up against the counter, his head in his hands. He looked like someone had just punched him in the gut. It was eerily quiet.

When we approached he looked up and straightened himself. I swore it looked like he was crying.

"You off?" he asked, looking at me. His eyes flickered over my bag and then to Bella. A look of something I didn't recognize flashed across his features.

"Yeah."

"Give Rosalie my best," he said. "I hope everything goes okay."

"If Maria calls –"

"I will take care of everything here," Garrett said. "Don't worry about it. I'll be in touch. If you need anything, call me. It doesn't matter what."

I nodded. Something was terribly off with him, and Bella wasn't saying a thing. "Are you okay, man?" I asked. "You look…like shit."

Garrett nodded and forced a smile. Somehow I knew he wanted to cry. "I'm fine. My…_sister_…she went through the same thing with her first. I know what it's like."

"Was she okay?" I asked, a little too forcefully. It felt like he had just fed me a life line.

"Yeah," he nodded. "It was touch and go for a while there, but she pulled through. Rosalie will too."

"Thanks," I said, and my stomach churned.

I walked towards the door and Bella followed me. Just when I stepped out into the hallway she stopped and looked at me.

"Uh…just give me a minute," she said. "I have to tell Garrett something."

I didn't want to wait. I wanted to _go_. I wanted to get up to Forks and see my sister and make sure she and everyone else was okay and then I wanted to punch Carlisle in the gut because even though I didn't know what made her go into labour, it had to be his fault, somehow, someway, because it was always fucking _his_ fault.

Bella and Garrett spoke in whispers, which I couldn't make out, nor did I care to. I was itching to go. Once Bella reappeared we were gone.

The trip up to Forks was long. I was itching to take over the driving and slam the gas pedal to the floor, but Bella wouldn't let me, no matter what I tried. She said I wasn't in a fit state to drive. I knew she was probably right, but that didn't make the waiting any easier. Nor did it make the time go by any faster. I wanted to see Rosalie. I wanted to make sure that she was okay. And then I wanted to gut Carlisle and feed his innards to the fish swimming around in that fucking aquarium in his office. Only pretentious assholes like Carlisle have fish in their doctor's office. _Pretentious_ didn't even begin to explain what he was.

"Jasper," Bella said when we were about fifteen minutes outside of Forks, "where do you want to go first?"

Her question had completely shaken me out of my otherwise distracted state. "What do you mean?"

"Would you like to head to the hospital first, or find a motel to stay in, or what?"

The question had me stumped. My reflex was to say 'hospital', but my logical side then kicked in and reminded me that Bella probably wouldn't be comfortable in the hospital. Not right then. I had to care for her too.

"Motel," I answered, missing a beat.

Bella frowned. "You don't have to do that for me."

"I'm not."

"You're not a good liar, Jasper."

I sighed. Bella smiled at me. That was the worst. "I'm not going to make you face them," I said. "It doesn't bother me if we go to the motel."

Bella shook her head. "How about this; I drop you at the hospital and then go and check into a motel. You call me when you want to be picked up. It's probably best that I'm not there when you see Rosalie."

"I'm not hiding you from them," I growled.

"I know," Bella nodded. "But this is a stressful time. We don't need to add to it. I'll wait for you. While I'm in the motel room, I'll call work, Angela, and Maria, too, to update her on what's going on. You just take care of Rosalie, alright?"

"Okay," I agreed.

"And Jasper?"

"Yeah?"

"Take care of yourself, too."

Bella pulled up outside the hospital to let me out. I opened the door and stuck my foot out before I retreated and turned back to her. Bella frowned at me questioningly. I leant over and kissed her.

When I pulled away Bella frowned, the corner of her lips turning up in a smile. "What was that for?"

"Thank you," I said.

"You have nothing to thank me for."

"Yeah, I do," I said. "Just accept it, please?"

Bella nodded once. "Go," she instructed. "Rosalie needs you."

I smiled and got out of the car. I didn't turn to watch Bella drive away as I ran into the hospital.

**:::**

_**Bella:**_

As Jasper rushed around to pack I approached Garrett in the kitchen again. He was nursing the slice in his finger under the running water from the tap.

"Garrett," I said evenly, "you've got to tell me what's going on."

Garrett shook his head, as though he was refusing tears. "I can't. I wish I could…but I just _can't_."

"You have to," I insisted. "Jasper has to know."

Garrett shook his head and slammed his eyes shut. A long moment passed before he built up the courage to look at me.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I had no idea."

"No idea about what?"

"About who he _was_," Garrett said through clenched teeth. "Carlisle. I had no idea what he had done…to you, and to Jasper, and to so many others."

"Yeah, well, not many people do."

"I never meant to hurt anyone," he promised.

"You have to give me more than that, Garrett," I said. "I still don't know what you're talking about."

A loud crash came from the bathroom. Both Garrett and I looked towards it. Then Garrett met my eyes, pleading.

"I can't tell him," he whispered. "Not now."

I nodded slowly. "I'll go see to Jasper."

Garrett didn't say a thing, although his expression screamed dread.

When Jasper and I were about to leave, I ran back in to see Garrett. Garrett looked even worse for wear, as if he hadn't slept in weeks, and was coming down with a terrible flu. Even though I was furious at him for what I suspected, he clearly felt a lot of remorse. It didn't make what he did any better, but perhaps it made it more forgivable. I couldn't judge till I knew the entire story.

"Are you going to tell him?" Garrett asked when I approached him.

"Tell him what? I don't know what happened. I don't know what deal you and Carlisle made. His sister just went into premature labour. Now is not the time to tell him."

It wasn't. I couldn't tell Jasper then. Not with all that was going on. But I also couldn't keep Carlisle's contact with Garrett a secret for long, either. It wasn't fair to keep Jasper in the dark. There were already enough secrets around.

Garrett nodded slowly. "I want to…tell him. I need to man up about it."

I nodded. "I'll let you know how things go in Forks. For now, I won't mention it."

"Thank you," Garrett said.

"I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for him. _For now_, he won't know. But if it seems like he needs to know…"

"You will tell him," Garrett nodded.

"No," I said. "I'll make you do it. Jasper deserves to know the truth."

Garrett understood this. I wasn't going to sugar coat anything for him. I felt too cold towards him. I knew what Carlisle was capable of. I knew that he could manipulate people. But the fact that Jasper had trusted Garrett _so much_, and that this trust was betrayed, was too much to forgive. Especially after everything Jasper had been through.

The drive towards Forks was tense. Jasper was on the edge of his seat, his palms sweating; his eyes darting all over the place as if he was in a horror movie, waiting for the killer to jump out and attack him at any moment. I didn't know what to do to console him. I didn't have a sibling, so I didn't know exactly what he was feeling, but I could imagine the pain and the terror that something terrible would happen to them. I wanted to reach out and touch him and tell him that everything was okay, but every time I tried, he gave me a look of terror, as if one touch might make him ache.

When I dropped Jasper off at the hospital he ran in without a backwards glance. I didn't like leaving him to face whatever was in there alone, but I also knew that he had to. This was his sister, his family, and as much as he could refuse them, he could never properly escape. Not really. Not when everyone was bound so tightly.

I drove to the motel and checked in with a heavy heart, yearning to make sure that he was okay.

My first port of call was to my boss to explain the situation. She was surprisingly understanding of the whole thing, and said that since I had hardly took a sick day during my time there, let alone my holiday time, I could take as much time as I needed. I was grateful for her understanding, but also knew that I would get back to work as soon as possible. It wasn't because I enjoyed work; it was because I didn't want my entire life to become about the Cullen family and everything that was going on. I needed some normalcy.

After calling work, I called Angela. When I told her what was going on, her breath caught in her throat. The only part I left out was about Garrett. I still didn't know what was happening with him.

"Rosalie went into premature labour?" she repeated.

I nodded, but realized that she couldn't see that. "It's horrible. Jasper was so torn up. He's with her now."

"And you are up there with him?"

"I'm not at the hospital," I said.

Angela breathed, as if in relief. "Good."

This made me frown. "Why?"

Angela paused for a moment, carefully selecting what she would say next. "I just…don't want you to get hurt, Bella."

"I won't get hurt. I'm here to support Jasper. That's all."

"Will Edward be there?"

Even the question made me mad. I wasn't a child. I wasn't a pathetic, broken-hearted teenager anymore. I had more things to worry about than Edward fucking Cullen. The bronze-haired asshole didn't even register on my radar, and Angela bringing him up now just pissed me off.

"I have bigger things to worry about than Edward Cullen. In fact, I hadn't even thought about him until you brought him up."

I sounded snarky and horrible. I knew I did. But I was also pissed and not afraid to show it.

"I'm sorry," Angela said quietly. "I really am. And I know you can handle yourself. I only…I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want you to go through that again."

Suddenly, I remembered what I had been like. I remembered my catatonic state after Edward broke up with me. I remembered how destroyed I was. I remembered the tragedies that followed with Carlisle. I remembered the depression I spiralled into afterwards; the depression that only got worse after Charlie died – so bad, in fact, that I was forced to drop out of college. Angela had been next to me throughout it. And even though I was off the anti-depressants and returning to semi-normalcy, I was still teetering on the edge of another melt down. I knew how easy it was to fall back into the darkness I had felt before. I knew how quickly things could turn sour. Angela knew too, and she was trying to protect me from that. I couldn't be angry at her for it.

"I know," I said. "But…I don't…I don't think I will. I'm not frightened. I'm not filled with dread. I'm…" What was I? Happy? Excited? Coping? _Fine?_ What was I? I had to think for a moment to find the right word. For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like buckling over in a ball of tears. I didn't feel like giving up. The complete opposite, I felt like _fighting_. I felt like I had new breath breathed into me. I had to be strong. I felt strong. I was strong. I felt like concrete. For the first time in a long time, I was starting to actually feel like I was someone with a _purpose_ in life. Like I could actually _be someone_. "I'm determined," I finished.

"Determined to do what?" Angela asked.

"To set things right."

I didn't just mean that in the sense of getting Jasper off his charges. That was one of many things I needed to set right. I also wanted Brett to pay for what he did. I wanted to stand up to Lucy. I wanted to help Jasper learn the truth about Garrett, and help Garrett in whatever mess he had gotten into with Carlisle. I wanted to help Jasper break away from the shackles that held him back, and help him recover from this crushing blow with his sister. I wanted them to mend the cracks in their relationship. I wanted to find a new job, or start doing something that I actually _enjoyed_. I wanted to move out of Seattle, out of Washington, and away from the cold dampness that I was continuously shrouded in, and which clung to my clothes like I was a stagnant, moss-covered tree. I wanted to air things out with my mother and start rebuilding our relationship. I wanted to fix my father's old house. I wanted to pay my respects to him, properly this time. And then, I wanted Carlisle to pay for what he did to me and so many other people's families.

It was about time that I grew up, stopped running, and started facing the hurdles that were laid out in front of me. It feels like it's been forever that I had been avoiding running the race. I was far behind, and had a lot of ground to catch up on, but I would do it. And I would do it right.

I wasn't _doormat-Bella_ anymore. I wasn't _pathetic-Bella_. I wasn't _run-away-scared-Bella_. I wasn't going to be the Bella I became when I got together with Edward. I was going to become the girl I once was, and could have been, if I hadn't have let myself be controlled so much by other people. I was going to start having a voice, and using it for something _good_.

I refused to let myself be weak anymore. I had to grow up.

I could imagine Angela nodding. I didn't need to explain this to her. That was the wonderful thing about us. She just _got me_.

"I'm proud of you," she said. "I'm _so _proud of you. But I'm also worried about you. What you're taking on…it's a lot."

"It's about time I actually faced it, too," I reminded her.

"Tell me if you need anything. And I mean _anything_," Angela said.

'Thanks, Ange. I will."

Angela and I said goodbye and hung up. My next port of call was Maria, to update her on what was happening. It was probably best that she knew that Jasper was out of town.

"That should be fine," Maria said after I told her. I could hear her rustling papers around on her desk. "Keep me updated on what you are both doing. If you are staying for longer, you may need to travel back a few times for meetings, but I will let you know. I am talking to the judge and prosecution next week. All seems to be going to plan."

"Do you think the case against Jasper will be dismissed?"

Maria was silent for a moment, pondering this question. "It is hard to tell," she said. "I would believe so, but I can never predict the outcome. I only warn you to not get your hopes up. I don't believe the outcome will be sour, but it could."

I nodded. It wasn't what I wanted to hear. What I wanted to hear was that everything would be okay, and that Jasper would be let off, and that nothing would go wrong. But of course no one knew what would really happen. I would cling to any slither of hope, but Maria logically couldn't give me any.

I didn't know what to do with myself after that. The motel was hauntingly quiet, and the only thing I could think about was what Jasper was doing, or what was going on in the hospital. I tried turning on the television, but the set was so old that I couldn't even make the picture out. In my rush, I hadn't even thought of packing a book. Thusly, I decided to head into town and pick up some food and perhaps find a bookshop. At least it would be something to do.

**:::**

_**Jasper:**_

When I sprinted to the receptionist, she told me to slow down and pointed me in the direction of Rosalie's room. When I started sprinting down there, a security guard stuck his hand out and told me to _walk_,_ not run_, as if I was a child again and at swimming lessons, being told not to run around the pool. When I tried to force my way past him he pushed me back and gave me a stern look. He had over seventy pounds on me. I decided to walk from then on, but I walked fast.

I arrived at Rosalie's room and knocked once. Edward was the one to answer. As soon as he saw me, his expression dropped. I swear he had been crying, and briefly I thought he was going to act like a brother to me. Briefly, I thought we could put aside our petty differences and just act like a _family _for once. Turned out I was wrong.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he hissed.

I wasn't in the mood for his petty bullshit, so I forced my way past him to see Rosalie. She was my real family. She was the reason I was there. She was the reason why I still clung on to my past; because she _lived_ it.

Rosalie looked up from her swollen stomach and smiled at me. She was ghostly pale, with large bags under her eyes, as if she hadn't slept for days. Emmett was at her bedside, one hand on her stomach and another on her hand, their fingers entwined. _That_ was a family. I didn't even notice Alice perched on the sink counter, or my mother and Tanya on the other side of Rosalie, or Carlisle standing by the door with a clipboard. I just saw my sister and the man she loved.

"Hey, Jay," Rosalie greeted cheerily, her voice a little rusty.

"Rosie," I breathed, stepping towards her. I walked over next to Emmett. She removed her hand from his and reached out to me. I patted Emmett's shoulder in greeting and took Rosalie's hand without hesitation. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit better," Rosalie nodded. "They've stopped the labour. My water didn't break, which is good. Contractions had just started, but I've been given medication to stop them, now. They are hoping to extend it to thirty six weeks, if all goes well. I'm confined to bed rest from now on."

"What caused it?" I asked, trying to hold back the tears. "Do they have any ideas?"

Rosalie opened her mouth to speak, but it wasn't her voice that I heard. It was Carlisle's. "They don't know _specifically_," he said, "but there are things to speculate about. Added stress, perhaps. Emotional strain. Anxiety." With every word, he stepped closer to me, until he was towering over me, casting a shadow over my face. Even Emmett retracted in Carlisle's presence. "You have a _lot_ of nerve coming up here, after all you have done."

"_Carlisle_ –" Rosalie began to argue, but he held his hand up to her, refusing it.

"I'm _speaking_," he warned her before turning back to me. "You have no _idea_ about what the ramifications of your actions are, _do you_? You have been nothing but trouble to this family, and now the trouble you have caused nearly _lost_ Rosalie and Emmett their _child_. You are a _disgrace_."

"_Carlisle!_" Rosalie interjected again, and again he held his hand up to stop her. I looked around the room at everyone's faces. No one was coming to my aid. Edward was sickly pleased with this show, Tanya and my mother were submissive, Emmett wouldn't meet my eyes, and Alice would, but when she did, I was frightened for her. She looked beaten down and broken. She looked apologetic. She looked like a lost little girl again.

"You have been nothing but reckless, and now you have sprung up a relationship with _filth_ like Bella Swan. I am _disgusted _in you. This entire _family_ is disgusted in you. You must leave. _Now_."

"NO!" Rosalie shouted over Carlisle's voice. This took everyone by surprise, and they all looked to her, incredulous. She was desperate and almost crying. Carlisle was outraged. "_No_," she repeated. "Jasper didn't do _anything_ wrong. _You did_. I told you this last night. You lied to me about him. You kept things from me. You used Mum and me to _control_ him. _You_ are the sick one here, not him."

"Rosalie," Carlisle warned evenly, "you will _not_ speak to me like that. Jasper put added stress on you, which most probably caused the labour. He has _hurt you_."

The look in Rosalie's eyes was familiar. Utter determination. Something had happened with them. I think I knew what. It had to be it. Rosalie had confronted him. She had that fire in her eyes. She had confronted him, and this frightened him, because he was losing his control over her.

"I _will_ speak to you like that," she said. "Jasper did none of those things. You tried to destroy my family. You blackmailed my _brother_. I can never forgive you. You pushed him away from me. You made him frightened to _talk_ to me. It's cruel, Carlisle."

"He is a menace!"

"He is _not_!" Rosalie said. "He is my _brother_!"

"Rosalie, darling, don't shout," my mother tried to ease her. "You have to stay calm. For the baby."

Rosalie blinked and tears tumbled down her cheeks. I wanted to soothe her, but I couldn't find my voice. I couldn't properly piece together what was happening. Rosalie was sick. Alice had somehow been beaten down, but Rosalie was starting to fight in her place. More things were coming to light. Carlisle couldn't manipulate her anymore. He didn't like this. His control was slipping. Rosalie was breaking away.

Carlisle's carefully crafted world was crashing down around him.

Rosalie nodded and drew in a few deep breaths. When she looked back to Carlisle, she had softened. "I don't want any more lies," she said. "Jasper has not done anything wrong. This is _no one's_ fault. I want Jasper around. He is my brother. And you will _not_ take that away from me." Emmett's hand slunk over to Rosalie's and their eyes met. They both forced themselves to share smiles. "You are this child's grandfather, Carlisle," she said evenly. "I want this family to work, so I want no more lies. Jasper, I want to meet Bella. I _want_ this to work out. I want the best for this _child_. _No more fighting_. I want this family to work out. We have to _work together_. Stop with the games. Stop with the fighting. I won't _have it_ anymore."

For a moment, everyone was silent. Eventually, Carlisle forced out a sharp nod. He didn't like losing any form of control. I could see it in his eyes. But I also knew his control was far from devoid. They all knew about my criminal proceedings and Bella. That was out in the open. But no one was going to face what was right in front of them, yet; Carlisle was practically, indirectly, a murderer.

"You're right," Carlisle agreed eventually, forcing on a fake smile. "You are right, Rosalie. This child is coming into the world. We cannot fight anymore. Jasper, we are sorry about your troubles. I thought I was protecting this family by keeping it quiet and attempting to fix it, in my own way, but I must have been mistaken. We will sort it out for you. For now, let's just focus on Rosalie."

We fell into polite chatter, mainly about the baby. I didn't know what to think about the entire experience. For hours, everything was calm, but filled with tension. I eventually moved to the edge of the room, near Alice, always on the peripheral. I was more at home that way.

I couldn't wrap my head around this family. It was truly messed up, in so many ways. There were games that we played, things that we hid, and things that only a select few knew. I knew that Carlisle knew far more than any of us.

When I tried to talk to Alice, she refused to acknowledge me. It was like she had grown to hate me over the few days that we had been apart. I tried to ask her what was wrong, but she shut me out immediately. Briefly, I wondered what had happened to the Alice who claimed to _owe me something_. Something was off. I knew I had to find out, but part of me didn't want to.

At lunchtime, I needed to get some fresh air. Staying in that room with all of them drove me insane. I headed out to the back of the hospital with a can of coke, needing a break. My stomach as too upset for me to eat, so I drank. I was too worried about Rosalie to do anything else. I just wanted her to be okay, and this never seemed possible, with her close proximity to Carlisle. He was a bad guy, but someone no one could break away from. I didn't want my sister around that controlling lifestyle. Hell, even I couldn't break away from him. Not properly. I fought my hardest, but he always had a way of weeding his way back into people's lives. I was no exception, as much as I wished I could be. I didn't doubt that he probably had mole in my life, and knew more about me than he let on. He most certainly wasn't happy with Rosalie's newfound determination. This scare with the baby had given her something to fight for; she was taking control from Carlisle and being pulled out of the darkness he had shrouded her in. Clearly, he didn't like that someone else was having a say on how the family was run.

I shuddered at the thought and suddenly felt very cold. For a moment, I craved the warmth of the Texan sun. It was the one place that he hadn't stolen from me.

Eventually I returned to Rosalie's hospital room. Not long after, the doctor came and talked to us. The goal was to postpone her labour for as long as possible. At thirty two weeks, the baby was not properly developed. Rosalie had been given rounds of medication to speed up the baby's development and stop her labour. Hopefully, it would hold off until thirty six weeks on bed rest, but no one could be sure.

As the doctor spoke, Rosalie and Emmett clutched at each other's hands. Rosalie looked stern and determined but her resolve was faltering. You could see it in her eyes. She wanted to buckle over in tears. Only, she couldn't, because the entire family was there and she just _refused_ to be weak again.

Not long after the doctor left, Edward and Tanya left, too, promising Rosalie that they would be back to see her the next day. Apparently there were some _pressing_ wedding matters to discuss. I couldn't work out what _matters_ would be so pressing that they were more important than Rosalie.

A few minutes after they left Carlisle returned to his rounds and my mother left to head home. She gave Rosalie a hug and a kiss as she left, but refused to even meet my eyes. It was almost as though she was frightened of me. Or disappointed. _Or both._ It wouldn't have surprised me. Carlisle could have said anything to her. In reality, I knew that I stopped fighting for my mother a long time ago. I stopped fighting for her when she stopped fighting for me.

"You should probably head home too, Alice," Emmett said to her. "Esme could use help at home."

Something was terribly wrong with Alice. I could see it in her eyes. She was looking at the floor, still perched on the counter by the sink, almost like a little child. When Emmett spoke to her she looked up, stunned.

After a few moments she shook her head and spoke in a tiny voice, "I have to wait here for Dad."

Wait for Carlisle? This didn't sound right. This wasn't Alice. Alice was rebellious and sparky. She wasn't quiet and tame. Something was off. _Terribly off._ I looked at her questioningly, but she wouldn't meet my eyes.

"I'm sure Dad will be fine with it," Emmett pressed.

Alice shook her head again. "No. I'm staying here."

"Al –"

Emmett was about to protest again when Rosalie stopped him with a touch of her hand. He looked down to her, suddenly torn and apologetic. She smiled sweetly at him.

"Em," she said quietly, giving a small shake of her head. Then she turned to me and spoke louder. I was leaning against the far wall, and she patted the seat next to her bed. "Jay, come over here. I want to talk to you."

I pushed off the wall and walked over to the chair. I could feel Alice's eyes on me as I did so. Only, when I looked over to her, she was watching the ground again.

Rosalie sat up more in her bed as I sat down. Her smile was bright, but the colour was drained from her face.

I sat down and Rosalie's hands enveloped mine. She looked like she was about to cry. I sorely hoped she wouldn't, because then I would, too.

"Tell me about what you've been up to," she instructed. "I feel like I haven't talked to you properly for a long time."

"Rosie," I argued, "you're sick. Now's not the time –"

"Now is the perfect time," she rebutted. "Just because I'm in hospital doesn't mean you can start treating me like an invalid. Tell me how you are."

"I'm fine," I swore. "I'm painting still. Working with Garrett. Everything is fine. How are you?"

Rosalie ignored my question. "And how is Bella?"

The mention of her name was chilling. Emmett stiffened and Alice visibly shook. Her name was dangerous to them. Somewhere deep inside, they all knew who Carlisle was, and what I claimed for him to have done. None would admit it, but they knew.

"She's good," I said. "A bit shaken from...the altercation, but we're sorting it out."

Rosalie nodded slowly. She looked extremely empathetic. "Is there anything I can do for you two?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "We'll be fine. Just focus on getting better."

"Do you think the charges against you will be dismissed?"

I shrugged. "It's hard to tell."

Rosalie nodded and fell silent. She thought for a few moments before speaking again. "Did Bella come up here with you?"

"Yes."

"I would love to see her."

This took everyone by surprise. Emmett and Alice both looked up, in complete shock. But still they didn't say anything.

"You want to see her?" I repeated.

"Yes," Rosalie nodded.

This thought startled me, because honestly, I didn't know if Bella would want to see them. After all that my family did to her, it might be too much.

"I don't know, Rosie. It might not be a good idea."

Rosalie nodded once. She understood this. But she wasn't giving up. "But you're with her, Jasper. If she means that much to you for you two to get together, I want to get to know her. Please, just ask her?"

I looked around the room. Emmett was reading a newspaper, trying to give us our space. I was grateful for it. Alice, however, wasn't making her interest subtle. She was watching us carefully, wanting to know what was going on. When she saw me watching her she quickly looked away again. She still wouldn't look me in the eyes.

I turned back to Rosalie. It was impossible to turn her down, but I couldn't promise anything, either. I felt like I was being ripped in half by my love for Rosalie versus my concern for Bella's welfare.

"I'll ask," I agreed. It was all I could give.

**:::**

_**Bella:**_

Jasper called me to pick him up from the hospital later that night at nine. He was unnaturally silent on the drive back to the motel. Every time I looked over at him to try and catch his eye, he was staring at the raindrops speeding down the window and plummeting towards the asphalt beneath us.

When I parked at the motel Jasper didn't budge. I turned to face him, concerned that something serious was wrong.

"Jasper," I said evenly, "is everything okay?"

Jasper looked over at me. When he did, I lost my breath. His eyes were filled with tears, and he was looking at me, pleading with me, as if I was the last drink of water in the desert.

"Rosalie wants to see you," he admitted quickly. "She wants the family to get along and she wants you to be a part of it."

I felt like someone had just kicked me in the gut. Or reached into my chest and yanked my heart out. Or kicked me in the chest and knocked the wind out of me. My mind was racing a million miles an hour. I couldn't say a word.

Instead, I got out of the car, and walked steadily up to the motel room.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, hugged my arms over my chest, and bent over, trying to rock myself steady. Trying to soothe the ache in my heart. Trying to stop the tears. I tried, but I wasn't doing a very good job.

Jasper opened and closed the door, standing away from me, as if he was scared that if he came any closer, I might break. When he spoke, my eyes shot up to him, and tears stained my vision.

"Bella, I'm sorry. I just...I had to ask."

I looked at him and he looked at me. Both of us were broken. I knew that this wasn't easy on him, either, but I still felt betrayed that he would even ask me that question.

"They're your family," I acknowledged. "I know that. I can deal with that. But they are _not_ mine. I don't want anything to do with them. _Any_ of them."

"I know," Jasper nodded, and I could see that he hated to ask this. I knew he did. But he had to. And I already knew my answer. "It's just...Rosalie. She is sick, and I have to ask. She wants an unbroken, unhindered family for the baby. She wants to get on with you."

I shook my head. I felt for her. I really did. But me playing pretend with them wasn't going to help in any situation. I could barely stand to be in the same _town_ at the Cullen's. I wouldn't play house.

"That is something that will never happen in that family. You know that. You can't just tape over the cracks and expect them to disappear."

"I have to, though," he said. "Just until Rosalie gets better."

"Don't ask me to help you."

"I have to."

"I _won't_ do it," I shouted then.

Jasper fell silent. My chest was heaving. I felt anger burning in my veins. I shot up from the couch and paced the room, standing on the other side from Jasper. Two sides of the battlefield.

I felt terrible for acting the way I was. I knew it was selfish. I knew it was cruel. But I also knew that I couldn't be _around_ those people and just act as if everything was okay. I couldn't be around them, period. Jasper couldn't, either. Not after everything they had done to him. Not after how much Carlisle _messed_ with him.

"You can't ask me to befriend them," I told him. "You just _can't_. Not after everything. That family has done nothing but _hurt you_, and yet you still stick around. You have _got_ to know that that's unhealthy. Don't make me do it too."

"Rosalie's my _sister_," he hissed at me.

"And Charlie was my _father_. Jacob was my _best friend_. Carlisle _took that away_!"

Jasper looked at me blankly. There was a fire in his eyes. "I know exactly what he took away, Bella. You don't need to remind me."

"Then don't let him take away anymore," I insisted. "Don't crawl back into his arms."

"I'm doing this for Rosalie."

"That's what it feels like," I nodded. "But you and I both know that in the end, it's Carlisle's arms that you are playing into."

"He doesn't want me there. He doesn't want you there. This is _not_ his plan."

"_Everything he does is a plan_!" I shouted, needing to tell him. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand around and watch Jasper be reeled back into that family every time he broke away, even a little bit. I couldn't stand him not knowing just how _tightly_ Carlisle had tied his noose. Was it not suspicious that, right after Jasper had stuck it to Carlisle, Rosalie was back in the hospital in an emergency, and Jasper was back within Carlisle's reach? The thought that Jasper was spending time with them, trying to make things right, all the while not knowing what Carlisle had done, and not knowing that Carlisle had something _over him _which _betrayed him_ and _kept him in the dark_ was impossible to consider. But it was real. And it wasn't fair that Jasper would go back into that family _not knowing _all he could about what Carlisle was doing.

Jasper knew I was right. I could see it in his eyes. But he still shook his head and blinked his tears away.

"He doesn't. Not this time. Not Rosalie. She's hurt. This...this isn't anything to do with Carlisle."

I didn't want to mention it. I didn't want to even bring up the possibility. But I had to; Jasper had to be careful.

"Carlisle is a doctor, Jasper. You pushed him away. Now you have been wheeled right back."

The gears were clicking into place in Jasper's mind. Somewhere behind the wall he put up, he already knew this. He already had a feeling. He just didn't want to admit it to himself. No one would. Not something this horrific. Carlisle had complete control. _Complete control_. And I had no idea how to undermine it. It seemed like Jasper would forever be stuck.

"He can't..." Jasper said quietly, still trying to dig for a solution that wasn't this. "He can't have...he doesn't have that much control."

I wish I could say that I believed that. But I didn't. I also knew that there was one person who could give us more answers.

"Listen, Jasper, if you need me to help you with Rosalie, I will do it. But...there's something you need to do first."

He looked like I had given him a lifeline. "What?"

I had to do it. I had to let Jasper know what he was walking into, and what was happening. When he was so close to Carlisle, I couldn't let him be kept in the dark.

"You need to talk to Garrett."

He looked completely dumbfounded. "But why?"

"He's not who you think he is."

* * *

><p><strong>Eeek. Okay. So. There you go.<strong>

**Thoughts?**


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